Mansion by the Sea
by Snake in the Grass
Summary: Riku's out to find himself, Sora's looking for a little summer fun. Roxas is struggling, Axel's discovering. Yuffie needs a tutor and Vincent's happy to provide. Cloud's a mess and a masochist, and Leon, well...Leon just needs to control those hormones.
1. Rite of Passage

Disclaimer: No Kingdom Hearts ownership for me, unfortunately. (But that rhymes!)

Yo! I am the Snake in theGrass and it wonderful to make your acquaintance. Yes, this is indeed a Sora/Riku fic, so if that is not the pairing for you then this is not the story for you. But come on, gimme a chance!

Warnings: This fic is rated M for a reason. It's got cussing and it's liable to get quite raunchy at times.

So enjoy!

* * *

Chapter 1  
Rite of Passage 

Sora stepped out of the taxi, taking a deep breath. The sea air was the best in the world, hands down. There was nothing better. Not mountain air or fresh farm air or any other kind of air—

"Hey, kid, are you gonna pay me sometime before next Tuesday?"

"Oh, sorry!" Sora said quickly, turning back to the annoyed looking cabby with the hair that looked suspiciously like a wig. He dug into his pockets, emerging with a wad of cash and a crinkled candy wrapper. He paid the man (with the money, not the candy wrapper), hefted his suitcase out of the trunk, and was left in a spray of gravel as the taxi booked in out of there.

"Jeez. Do I smell or something?"

Sora took a furtive sniff. Nope, minty fresh. At least as minty fresh as a sixteen year old boy could be. He grabbed his suitcase and began hauling it toward the small white house he'd been dropped off in front of. It was really hot here, and he was certain he'd be drenched in sweat quite shortly.

So much for minty fresh.

The door was wrenched open before he could knock and Sora found himself violently set upon by a hundred and twenty pounds of teenage girl.

"Sora!" she squealed. "What took you so damn long? I've been waiting for you all day!"

"The plane was delayed," Sora answered, smiling and hugging the girl back. "It's good to see you too, Kairi."

Kairi Nakamura led the way into her house, ordering Sora to drop his stuff anywhere he wanted.

"My parents are gonna be gone for like a week, so who the hell cares if we put shit away or not?"

Sora took the idea to heart and pitched his suitcase into the middle of the living room. "I still can't believe they let me stay with you when you're home alone."

Kairi laughed nervously as she led the way into the kitchen. "Uh, yeah, 'bout that…"

Sora knew that tone of voice. "Kairi…"

"Uh, my parents don't exactly know you're here, Sora…"

Sora sank onto a chair at the kitchen table. As odd as it sounded, he wasn't incredibly shocked by the revelation that Kairi hadn't asked for permission before inviting him over for the summer. It was just like her. Crazy, impulsive, and tons of fun because it. No, it didn't surprise him, but it did piss him off a little.

"Hey, Kairi, my flight back home isn't until the end of August. Where am I supposed to go when your parents get home?"

Kairi passed him a bottle of some dark liquid and sat down across from him. He sniffed it dubiously.

"It's root beer, dumbass," she said. "Not even _I _start drinking until six o'clock."

Sora half-laughed. He wasn't sure if Kairi was being serious or not. Plus, she hadn't answered his question yet.

"Dammit, Sora, don't freak out. There's tons of kids our age around here. I'm sure someone'll let you stay with them."

Not feeling reassured in the slightest, Sora took a sip of his soda. Kairi wasn't the greatest plan-maker in the world. If she ever organized an invasion, he was definitely staying home. He hadn't seen his best friend in over a year, not since she'd moved from Tokyo to the sea shore. She sure had changed. Her reddish-brown hair was about twice the length it had been, she'd gotten a tan, and she'd gained some weight, meaning she no-longer looked like an anorexic model. Thank god for that.

"You're staring at me, Sora," she remarked, resting her chin on her hand, "Are you switching teams on me again?"

Sora stuck his tongue out. "Yeah right. Don't worry, the thought of naked women still makes me kind of sick."

Kairi laughed. "Glad to hear it. Anyway, if you're done with that," she indicated the soda. "Then we should go. There's a bunch of people you need to meet."

* * *

By far, The Open Eye was coolest place to chill out on Destiny Island. Both literally and figuratively. It was the most popular teenage hangout in town, and it was also one of the only establishments that had constant air conditioning. Hence a large part of its appeal. The coffee was quite good too. 

Tifa strode into the café like she owned the place, which technically she did. Her dad had bought it last year when the previous owner had been about to go bankrupt. The Lockhearts owned a large variety of establishments, and The Open Eye had turned out to be a good addition.

"Hey, Tifa," a girl behind the counter greeted her as she straddled a stool, flicking her long raven hair back over her shoulders. Yuffie had been Tifa's best friend since Elementary School, which was probably why she had gotten the job. Yuffie wasn't the most…tolerant person in the world. Definitely not cut out for waitressing; one reason being that her severe appearance tended to frighten people. Her hair was cut like a boys, her eyes were fierce, and she looked quite capable of kicking anyone's ass.

"Gimme a cappuccino, Yuff," Tifa yawned, stretching. She was oddly tired today.

"Coming right up. Boss," she added, giggling like it was the funniest thing in the world. Tifa resisted the urge to roll her eyes.

Enter member #2 of Tifa Lockheart's gang. He came up behind her, slipping thin arms around her waist and kissing her neck.

"Hey, baby."

"Hey," she answered coolly. Tifa put a lot of effort into her cavalier attitude toward practically everything. Some people thought it was superior and bitchy and some, like her partner-in-crime and boyfriend, Axel, thought it was sexy.

Axel slid onto the stool beside her. He pushed his crimson hair out of his sweaty forehead. It was fucking hot out there.

"Where's everybody else?" he asked, taking a sip of Tifa's cappuccino.

Tifa jerked the coffee away. "Touch my caffeine and you die. They're coming. Oh, and get this. Kairi's got some kid from Tokyo visiting while her parents are gone."

Axel raised a thin eyebrow. "Really? What's he like?"

Tifa shrugged. "Probably big, tough, and annoying like all the rest of those Tokyo playboys."

"Hey, guys." Another stool was suddenly occupied by a boy. He had short, spiky blond hair and the build of an athlete.  
"Tidus, you're here. Good."

Tidus gave a little mock bow, which didn't really work out because he was sitting on a stool at a coffee bar. Tifa once again had to restrain herself from rolling her eyes. Why did she hang out with these people again? Oh yeah, because they'd passed her entrance exams. They'd all done it in different ways, but each and every one of her friends had proven themselves in some way. Yuffie had done it by beating up some asshole who had been messing with Tifa's little brother Denzel. Tidus had been the only one brave enough to jump off of the southern bluff into the ocean during a hurricane. Kairi was still kind of probation, and Axel…

Well, Axel got in by giving her the best sex she'd ever had in her life, but that wasn't something one discussed in a polite conversation.

"What's up?"

Tifa, Axel, and Tidus spun their stools around. There was Kairi, and that must be…

"Sora, right?" Tifa inquired.

The brunette boy nodded. Of all the things Tifa had been expecting, this definitely wasn't it. This wasn't some bleached-blond Tokyo thug, this kid was _cute. _That was the only word for it. Spiky, rather wild hair, and eyes that could put sapphires to shame. There was something rather unassuming to his presence, which suited Tifa fine.

He would be easy to push around.

Kairi, on the other hand, was one big ball of energy. "So what are we doing?" she asked, hopping from one foot to the other. "I wanna show Sora what the Destiny Island really has to offer."

Axel snorted. "You mean besides boredom and despair?"

Everyone laughed, including Sora. Tifa noted that. So he didn't have any trouble getting along with strangers. That would come in handy when she had to think of what his little _test _would be.

"Well, we should get the hell out of here," she said, standing up. "This place is getting crowded. I do believe it's Tidus' turn to have us over..."

* * *

The group departed, heading up the street for Tidus' neighborhood. Yuffie had pouted a little when they left, but she assured them she' be there as soon as her shift was over at six. Sora was walking up ahead a little with Kairi and Tidus, the three of them laughing uproariously at something the newcomer had said. 

"So whatd'ya gonna make this one go through?" Axel asked her softly, his eyes glittering with anticipation akin to that of a Roman watching someone being thrown to the lions.

Tifa smiled smugly. "I've already got an idea."

"Tell me," Axel demanded, sliding his hand into her back pocket.

"You know that _empty _mansion right on the beach? The one at the end of Yuffie's street?"

"What?" Axel said, puzzled. "That mansion's not…oh." He smirked. "Perfect."

"We get the kid to break in and bring something out to us. But we're not gonna tell him about…you know."

Axel chuckled in delight. Honestly, Tifa could be so damn _evil _sometimes. It was probably what turned him on the most.

"So whatd'ya think he'll do to him?"

Tifa shrugged. "Call the cops. Maybe fuck him against a wall. Who the hell cares?"

Axel had to bite down his laughter. "This is gonna be _awesome._"

* * *

"Are you serious?" Kairi breathed. "No fucking way!" 

"Shut the fuck up, you whore," Tifa hissed. "He's right there!"

Kairi glanced surreptitiously over her shoulder. They were in Tidus' basement, listening to music and hanging over the second-hand furniture. Sora and Tidus were playing Soul Caliber 3 noisily over in the corner, and Yuffie (who had appeared around 6:30) was watching and making fun of Tidus' inability to grasp the concept of 'blocking'.

"He's only gonna be here for the summer, guys!" Kairi protested. "He doesn't need to be initiated!"

"So?" Axel muttered.

Tifa nodded. "If you want him to hang out with us, then get him to do it. Tonight."

Kairi stared in shocked horror. "Tonight? Tifa, he just got here! And this isn't something easy like jumping off a cliff. This could get him in big trouble!"

"You know that was a completely contradictory statement, don't you?" Axel asked.

"And _you_ know I don't give a shit, right?" Kairi snapped back. She turned her attention back to the ringleader. "Come on, Tifa. Think of something else."

"No. If little Sora wants to play with the big kids he's going to have to get out of the sandbox. So deal with it, Nakamura." The senior girl had a superior smirk on her pink lips, and a very cool look in her eyes. Someone who didn't know her would say Tifa was relaxed. Someone who did know her would say she was laughing in silent triumph.

Kairi sat back down on the couch, biting her lip. This was really stupid. Tifa and Axel had definitely gone too far this time. This wasn't some childhood prank, this was breaking the law. She watched as Sora jumped up in triumph, a big goofy grin covering his face.

"Siegfried dominates again!" he yelled, and Yuffie cuffed him in the back of the head.

Kairi sighed internally. Sora seemed to be fitting in great. Everything would have been perfect, if Tifa didn't have to act like the Evil Bitch-Monster of Death all the time. But of course she did. It was her default mode. She had been born an evil bitch and she probably would stay an evil bitch until the day she died. Kairi had only joined her stupid gang because she used to have a crush on Tidus, and because Axel used to be one of her best friends.

That was before he'd started fornicating with Tifa after every meal, of course.

* * *

"Hey, slow down," Sora protested. "I am _so _not understanding this." 

"They're tacos, Sora. The human race was not meant to understand them."

"Not that, dummy," Sora protested. Kairi had cooked them up Mexican for dinner, which they were currently eating on the back porch, trying to ignore the argument that seemed to be going on in the house next door. There was a angry yell, and a crash that sounded like a lamp breaking. Sora winced. This wasn't exactly what you'd call a relaxing meal. "What do you mean, I have to complete a 'task'? What's with the air quotes?"

Kairi stuck her fork into her pile of Spanish rice, glaring down at it as though flavorful grain personally insulted her. "It's kind of like this rite of passage thing we do here…" She hated the fact that she had to use the 'we', but Tifa had expressly forbidden Kairi to blame everything on her because, of course, she was the Bitch Monster of Death.

"Rite of passage?" Sora repeated. "What are we, Kairi, Aztecs?"

* * *

Ocean Blvd (such an original name) was a long, palm-shaded street that only could be described with one word. 

_Swanky. _

Every single house was a colossal structure of brick and plaster, each of them sitting at the end of a long drive. Impeccably tended flower gardens surrounded most, their flowers fresh and blooming despite the oppressive heat. The weather really was terrible. Stifling, without a breath of wind. The air was filled with a sort of charged expectancy, which was explained by the looming black cloudbank approaching from off the coast. This was the calm before the storm.

Sora was chewing on the inside of his cheek, trying to get up the nerves to do what he'd come all the way out here for. He'd ridden home with Yuffie, who had a house on the street over, and then been left on his own to make his way toward his impending doom. He was currently standing outside of 1086 Ocean Boulevard, the last house on the road, and the swankiest of them all.

It was absolutely huge. Sora had seen mansions like this in the movies, but he'd never actually come across one in real life. The kind with libraries and movie theatres and a butler with an English accent that called you 'master'. There was a pool in the back, a walkway leading down to the beach, and no doubt a state-of-the-art security system. It was this last thing that was really worrying Sora.

His thoughts drifted back to his conversation with Kairi.

"I am not breaking into anyone's house!" he'd yelled, standing up at the dinner table. "That's just not…not cool, Kairi!"

"Calm down," his friend had ordered, though she looked slightly on edge herself. "It's not like anyone's gonna be in there, anyway. The family who owns it uses it as a winter house. They usually don't show up until school starts."

"Are you sure?" Sora asked.

"Yes!" Kairi had insisted, though she obviously wasn't sure at all.

Still, looking at the mansion now, Sora thought it looked deserted. All of the windows were blank, many of them with their shades drawn. No snazzy cars stood in the driveway, and there weren't any gardeners milling about. (There always seemed to be gardeners in the movies.)

But the security system! He didn't know why he hadn't thought of it before. A place this upscale would definitely house people who were as paranoid as they were rich. The moment Sora opened a door or cracked a window, he'd trip an alarm. There was absolutely no doubt. Still, he approached the house under the cover of a line of palm trees, removing his sneakers so as to make as little noise as possible.

After a few very tense minutes, he reached the edge of pool, ducking down amongst the arrangement of leafy potted plants placed tastefully around the perimeter. The still water was a deep blue in the fading light and was about the most inviting thing Sora had ever seen. He was sweating so much his T-shirt was sticking to his back; a little swim right now would be incredible. But he didn't have the time, unless…

Sora squinted toward the far end of the pool, an idea beginning to form. It seemed to be one of those indoor/outdoor pools, the ones that began inside the house but then continued into the yard, separated by a huge pane of glass. The only way to get through was to dive under the surface.

There wouldn't be any alarms in the pool, would there?

Moving slowly despite his assurance that no one was home, Sora dropped his shoes and pulled off his shirt. Creeping to the edge of the water, he dipped a toe in. It was pleasantly cool, and he wasted no time in lowering himself in, trying to avoid making a splash. Taking a breath, he dove under the surface.

An odd euphoria seized him as he propelled himself forward, lithe body cutting through the cool water. He was tempted to spend a few minutes just swimming in circles, but the constant threat of being caught hung over his head and he hurried toward the house. He glided smoothly under the glass, surfacing apprehensively. The muted light reflecting off the water cast rippling shadows on the walls, giving the room an otherworldly feel.

Sora pulled himself out, splashing all over the white tile. He shivered a bit in the open air, but it wasn't too bad.

_Okay, all I have to do is find something small to take back…_

What was he gonna take? He really didn't want to add theft to breaking and entering, but something was spurring him on. He liked to think it was the excitement of the unknown instead of his desperate need to get Tifa and her gang to like him.

* * *

So that's the end of chapter one. I swear, Riku will be in the next one! If anyone has any ideas about what funny/kinky situations you'd like to see these two boys in, by all means, share them with me! I'm open to suggestion. 

And please, please, please, if you like it, review it! It only takes a minute to make my day a little better.


	2. Not So Empty

Disclaimer: Nope, not mine.

Author's Note: Thanks to everyone who left me a review! It really made my day. Wow, this chapter came out fast didn't it? Well, as long as inspiration keeps coming and you guy keep reviewing I hope to crank this story out quite fast. Please don't hold me to that, though. You never know when you might experience a hailstorm of homework, so…

Oh, and about Tifa…I know I made her a total bitch, but that's not 'cause I hate her. She's definitely my favorite female character in FF7, and at first I was gonna make Yuffie the ringleader, but she just doesn't have the personality for it, you know? She's more like the bouncy sidekick.

Warnings: Dirty mouths, dirty minds, and masturbation. Yay!

* * *

Chapter 2

Not So Empty

Sora moved furtively from room to room, searching for something small to bring back to Tifa and Co, something that wouldn't be missed. Unfortunately, everything in this place seemed to be either incredibly expensive or bolted to the floor. He passed through a long dining room, several living rooms, and started down a wide corridor lined with an almost ridiculous collection of art. Sora paused in front of a particularly striking painting. It depicted a gnarled tree, so alive with fall color that it almost looked like it was on fire. The surreal effect and swirling brush strokes was familiar…

_Oh my god, _he thought, _That's Van Gough, isn't it! Dammit, it looks real…_

If only he had a moving van and absolutely no conscience. Then he'd pack this thing up and bring it back to Tifa.

_Yeah, I just stole millions of dollars work of artwork, but no biggie. But hey, can I keep the painting? _

Sora snorted. Like that would ever happen. But damn, Van Gough. That was just ridiculous.

He left the gallery, climbing a short flight of stairs. They ended on a large landing, leading to a pair of French doors. A balcony lay beyond them. Sora squinted through the glass. It was hard to tell in the darkness, but there seemed to be a coffee mug sitting on the side of the balcony? That was a perfect thing to bring back; not expensive and not very liable to be missed. He was just about to open the door when something happened that made his blood run cold.

"What are you doing in my house?"

Sora froze, fingertips inches from the doorknob. The sky visible through the glass had angered to black, bloated purple clouds drifting overhead alarmingly. The wind had whipped the line of palms along the driveway into a green frenzy, bending them double at their trunks.

It was all a perfect reflection of what was going on in Sora's head. Kairi had assured him there would be no one in the house, hadn't she? This wasn't supposed to happen! Sora didn't want to go to jail, dammit!

Before he could even consider attempting an escape, hands gripped his shoulders and he was tugged around roughly. His eyes fought the darkness, futilely trying to make out his captor's face. For just a moment, the scene was illuminated, a lighting strike sending the hallway into eerie relief. Sora found himself staring into a pair of eyes with a hue he didn't think he even had the capacity to name. The only thing he could think of was the time he'd gone on a trip to the Caribbean a few years ago, and the ocean had looked like something out of a poem. A pure aquamarine, shining under the mid-day sun.  
His captor's eyes were shining in the darkness now, as he demanded, "Who the hell are you?"

Sora found himself unable to respond. He thought it probably had a lot to do with the fear and not with the breathtaking beauty of those eyes, but he couldn't be sure.

When he didn't respond, the hands gripped him harder. "It's too goddamn dark…"

Sora was dragged unceremoniously off along the hall by the front of his shirt. The owner of the house wrenched a door open and pulled him inside. Light flooded the room and Sora had to narrow his eyes against the onslaught.

He'd been tugged into an elegant bathroom; all marble sinks and crystal taps. The shower was very large and very modern looking. There was a scruffy loofah hanging on the wall inside it. Quite an odd thing to notice when there were much more pressing things to examine.

The boy he was currently sharing a bathroom with, for instance.

His eyes had only been a teaser. The rest of him was just as stunning. He was tall and slender, dressed in black jeans and an open-necked shirt. The bottom two buttons were undone, revealing the hint of an incredible set of abs. His hair was long and silver, spilling over his shoulders like a stream of mercury.

He didn't seem angry or scared or anything else Sora himself would have experienced if he'd found some strange person in his house. No, the boy just looked kind of annoyed, as though Sora's intrusion was nothing but a slight inconvenienced.

"Well?" he inquired, folding his arms. "Are you gonna tell me why you're in my house, or am I going to have to tie you up and use force?"

Even through his dismay, Sora found this comment rather odd. Most people would threaten a phone call to the cops, not bondage.

"I-uh-I," he spluttered.

The boy watched him floundering, an expression that looked suspiciously like amusement stealing over his face. He glanced at the huge mirror over the sinks.

"We're pretty hot together, aren't we?"

"Wha-?" Sora looked wildly at the mirror. The boy, gorgeous and unconcerned, and him, flushed and panicked.

All of a sudden, the boy grabbed Sora's wrist, tugging him out of the bathroom and off along the corridor and down the steps. For some extremely bizarre reason, Sora found himself getting oddly turned on. It definitely didn't fit the situation, but he didn't have enough energy to try to analyze it, so he just tried not to stare at the boy's ass. Much.

He was frog marched back through the gallery and the living rooms. The boy paused for a moment at the pool, his eyes lighting on wet tile. His face lit with understanding. He muttered, "clever," and continued on. He didn't stop until they reached a parlor, complete with a plasma TV and leather sofas. He pushed Sora onto one of them.

"Sit. Relax. _Explain._"

Sora scowled. "If you're gonna call the police, just do it, okay—."

"I'm not going to call the police."

"You're not?"

The silver-haired boy shook his head.

Sora swallowed. "Then what are you gonna do to me?"

The boy broke into a slow grin. He moved quickly, planting his knee on the couch between Sora's legs, practically climbing on top of him. "Depends. What do you want me to do to you?"

Sora drew back into the soft leather. The boy smelled like some sort of spicy vanilla cologne, and he was finding it difficult to form coherent thought with him so close.

"W-what?" he managed to stammer out.

"I asked what you want me to do to you." His eyes narrowed to sea-green slits. "You come in here at night…a guy could get the wrong idea." He traced the curve of Sora's jaw with his finger, skin ghosting across skin. Then he was backing up, laughing. Everything about his manner said, "psyche."

"Just kidding. Wanted to freak you out a little. So why are you here?"

Sora let his breath out slowly. He didn't know whether he was relived or disappointed. Whatever the fact, he couldn't deny the rush of excitement he'd felt when the boy had climbed on top of him.

Give him a break. He was sixteen, okay?

"It was a dare," he answered, then immediately regretted it. What if the boy called the cops on his friends instead of him? Well, okay, he didn't really give a flying fuck about Tifa and her little gang, but there was Kairi…

But the kid was still laughing. "So Axel and his band of jerk-offs are fucking with me again…"

"You know them?" Sora asked, surprised.

"I go to school with them."

"Huh?" It finally struck Sora that this guy couldn't be much older than he was. Sexiness aside, he was probably no older than 18.

The boy nodded. "Yeah. They know I live here. They hate me."

"They told me this place was empty!" Sora exclaimed. "Dumb butts!"

The boy's low laugh echoed through the room again. "Haven't heard that one in awhile. Come on, I'm hungry." He started out another door, calling back over his shoulder, "I'm Riku, just so you know."

"Sora," Sora responded as he followed him into the kitchen.

A wide window over the stove was open, letting in the elements. Riku moved to close it and the wind caught his hair, whipping it into a silvery storm. He looked otherworldly, standing there silhouetted against the purple sky, eyes shining like a demon's. Then he slammed the window shut, and the spell was broken.

Sora felt the color rising to his cheeks as he watched Riku slam around the kitchen, rooting through cupboards and drawers. Why the hell was he so attracted to this guy? Sora was usually good at keeping his hormones in check, but there was something about him. Something enticingly mysterious that made Sora feel like he needed to go for another swim in the chilly pool.

Riku dumped an armful of junk onto the countertop. Ritz crackers, peanut butter, and Nutella. He smiled apologetically.

"Sorry. The cook's on vacation."

Sora didn't move. "I broke into your house, and you're _feeding _me."

Riku shrugged, pulling a couple of knives out of a drawer. "You didn't take anything, did you? Or am I gonna have to—." He slid a hands down into his pants. "Strip search you?"

Sora kept his mouth shut. He didn't know if he wanted to cry for his mother or scream "take me now!", but he didn't want to risk either.

Riku was now unscrewing the tubs of processed chocolate and peanut butter. He dipped his finger into the former, sliding it into his mouth and bringing it out clean.

Sora didn't miss the innuendo. At least he thought it was an innuendo. Was it possible that Riku could act that seductive without meaning to? He supposed it was possible, but highly unlikely.

Lighting flashed, illuminating the dunes outside. The white light turned them into bleached mounds, like barrows over the tombs of ancient kings. Hardly a moment later a massive crack of thunder rent the air, making Sora jump. The light in the kitchen promptly flickered and died.

"Shit," Riku said, still quite cavalier. Sora could barely make out his outline, and he was only on the other side of the counter from him. Rain had begun to pound on the window, tiny fists hammering to get in.

"Are the storms always this bad around here?" Sora asked.

"Only in the summer. Stay here. I know I got a flashlight somewhere."

Sora followed his advice, standing at the kitchen counter, willing his eyes to adjust. Of all the ways he had expected this evening to go, this definitely wasn't it. What was Kairi thinking right now? He hadn't come back, she probably thought he'd been caught and was sitting in some cell downtown. Thinking he wouldn't be needing it, Sora had left his cell phone in the spare bedroom back at her house. Anyway, it probably wouldn't have even worked in this storm.

It was a few minutes before he heard the sound of approaching footsteps and Riku appeared, the glow from the candle he was holding creating a warm halo of light around him. "Couldn't find any goddamn flashlights, but I guess this is good enough." He set it down on the counter. "Here." He tossed the other thing he was carrying at Sora. Something soft hit the boy in the face. "You must be kind of chilly," Riku commented.

Sora held up a red T-shirt. A slight blush crept up his neck as he realized that he was still half naked. He'd completely forgotten he'd stripped by the poolside in all the excitement. Hoping to god the light wasn't strong enough to reveal his embarrassment, he pulled the shirt over his spiky head. It was a little big, and it smelled like Riku.

"I—," he began.

Riku glanced up from where he was lighting another candle. He was cupping the flame from the match in his hand, his silver hair shining in the firelight. Sora felt his stomach muscles constrict.

"I think I better go home."

"Fuck that," Riku snorted. "Look out there. It's a fucking mess. You'd get blown into a ditch."

"Then what—."

"You can stay here. It's not like I don't have enough room."

Sora didn't think that was such a good idea. Sure, Riku was really nice and his house was fucking fabulous, but it didn't change the fact that he'd caught Sora doing something illegal. It would probably be wise to put as much distance between himself and this silver-haired beauty as possible. But when he glanced out the window, he had to agree. Getting struck by lighting wouldn't be a terrific conclusion to his day.

"Okay," he agreed finally, choosing one of the candles. He moved it a little too fast, it seemed, because the flame snuffed out, curling up into a little stream of smoke.

"You're candle's out," Riku observed.

"Yeah," Sora said, and before he could help himself sang out, "Would you light my candle?"

Riku grinned. "You know Rent?"

Sora shrugged. "Doesn't everyone?"

"All the cool people," Riku laughed, striking a match and re-lighting the candle in Sora's hand. "Come on, I'll show you where you can stay."

* * *

Ten minutes later, Riku collapsed wearily onto his bed. He'd put Sora up in one of the bedrooms on the other side of the house, partly because it was one of the nicest ones there was, and partly because he wanted as much distance as possible between himself and temptation. Finding a half-naked, infuriatingly attractive brunette breaking into his house had not been on his evening's agenda. Still, he thought he'd shown an extraordinary amount of restraint.

He hadn't grabbed Sora and fucked him into the floor, had he?

'Cause he'd wanted to, god, he'd wanted to. Maybe it was because he hadn't gotten much lately, but who could have thought apprehending intruders could turn him on so much?

But Sora…Jesus. He'd been terrified of Riku at first, so completely at his mercy. Riku admitted it; the animal in him had wanted to ravage him right there in front of the bathroom mirror. He could feel the telltale signs of blood rushing between his legs. His skin was almost unbearably hot. He lay back on his bed and allowed his raunchy mind to take over.

God, the things he'd do to Sora if he ever got the chance!

He wanted to touch him, to reach under his shirt and explore places not often exposed to the public. He wanted to search the boy's tanned skin with his fingertips, trace the muscles with his tongue. Riku slowly kneaded the lump in his jeans with his palm, giving himself completely over to his fantasies.

He wanted to pin Sora to the ground, to feel that tight little body writhing in his grasp.

Riku moaned, rubbing himself harder. _Fuck it, _he thought, jerking down the zipper and thrusting a hand inside. He'd perfected masturbation in his early teens and he had absolutely no shame in that fact.

He'd make Sora scream his name, he'd have him moaning in ecstasy, he'd—

Riku gasped, hips jerking up as he climaxed. With a groan, he rolled over onto his stomach.

If only he had known the object of desires had just dealt with a similar problem in a guest room on the second floor.

* * *

And that's the end of chapter 2! Yeah, Riku's definitely a sexy bitch.

Sorry about the corny Rent reference, there were candles and I just had to do it.

See you in the next chapter!


	3. Morning After Nothing

Disclaimer: I do own some tasty chocolate mousse, but not Kingdom Hearts.

Author's Note: Yo! Thanks for the reviews, guys. Of all the stories I've ever written, including the ones on different accounts, this is the most popular one yet! Guess people really like this pairing.

And okay, I know we all really want to see Sora get fucked, but I'm gonna try to make this story at least a little believable, so please work with me. Two random guys who just met under these bizarre circumstances wouldn't have sex, no matter how much they wanted to. And though I may read the occasional rape fic, I don't write them. There will be no rape in this fic. There's already gonna be enough sex (I swear) without me piling on the non-consensual.

Now, without further ado...

* * *

Chapter 3

The Morning After

Riku awoke to the morning sunlight streaming through his window. He lay there for a few minutes, still half-immersed in that foggy state between dreaming and waking. The palm tree outside his bedroom waved lazily in the wind coming off the sea, sending streaks of dappled light over the ceiling. Riku watched the patterns, trying to get his thoughts in order. He seemed to recall being really upset the night before. Well, maybe not upset. Anxious, possibly. Or excited.

It hit him like the Titanic hitting that damn iceberg. He sat bolt upright, throwing off his blankets. Sora! God dammit, how had he forgotten?

He hit the hallway running, pulling on a pair of pants as he went. This sounds a lot easier than it actually is, and Riku had to do a little hop-skippy dance to avoid falling on his ass. Fuck, he was graceful in the morning. Running his fingers through his mussed hair he thundered down the front steps, flying through the gallery and the pool room.

He didn't really have a precise reason for charging around like this. It was just, he felt so _good. _Like, mentally good. Happier than he had been in a long, long time, and the logical thing to do felt like running about like a madman. Skidding into the kitchen, he noticed two things. One: the room was completely Sora free. Two: there was a note sitting on the counter, right next to a red T-shirt.

_Dear Rikku (I hope I spelled your name right…) _

_Thanks so much for everything. I promise I will never break into your house again, or anyone else's house. I'm really sorry about trespassing, and I wish there was some way I could make it up to you. Thanks for not calling the cops. _

_-Sora_

Riku felt the bubble of happiness in his stomach burst. He could think of a few ways Sora could make it up to him, and they all involved him naked and bent over the kitchen table, but he was gone already. The antique clock on the wall declared it to be a little past eight o'clock. The kid sure was an early riser…

Disappointment winding its way through his bloodstream, Riku dug some coffee out of the pantry. It was some of that expensive African stuff his dad had brought back from a business trip. Really good shit; highly flavorful and highly caffeinated. Just the thing that was needed at the moment. Riku scooped some out, turned on the coffee maker, and stood there as it gurgled and hissed. Honestly, he had been an idiot. Why the hell would Sora stick around? Riku had made it clear he didn't owe him anything.

But would it have killed the kid to leave a phone number?

He waited until the coffee maker beeped and he'd poured himself a steaming mug before sitting down at the kitchen table. They had two other dining rooms, but when he was alone he preferred to eat in here. It felt pretty awkward to sit at a huge table by yourself.

Sighing, he stared at the sugar bowl moodily. Fuck! Why was this kid bothering him so much? It didn't make any sense. Riku wasn't an idiot; he knew he was attractive. One could even go as far to say _fucking gorgeous, _like, _wet dream material. _

He didn't like to brag, of course.

But the issue was, Riku could pretty much have anyone he wanted, male or female. He was proud to say that his longest relationship had only lasted a couple weeks, but he'd had more 'lovers' than he could count. The point of this being that he should be able to just move on from his desire for Sora to someone else.

But he couldn't. He _wouldn't, _because there was something about that boy that was just so gut-wrenchingly appealing, something that made him want to do things he'd never mention in polite conversation—

Riku shook his head, trying to chase the thoughts away. He had to find this guy. But where to start?

* * *

Kairi had been freaking out most of the night. Where the frickin' hell was Sora? It shouldn't have taken him over twelve hours to nip into an empty mansion and grab a table lamp or something. Had the little klutz gotten caught? Maybe the mansion actually was occupied, by a serial rapist murderer pedophile.

She had considered calling the cops once or twice, but what the hell would she say? _My friend hasn't come back from the millionaire's house he broke into on a dare my gang leader with a Hitler complex sent him on. _Yeah, right.

So instead she barely got any sleep, paced around her house like a fucking insomniac, waiting for Sora to come home. She must have fallen asleep on the couch because when she woke up it was to the sound of shower running in the guest bathroom on the second floor. Kairi had to restrain herself from running in there and launching herself at him this very minute. She didn't think he'd appreciate that.

When he finally did emerge from the bathroom, dripping wet with a towel around his waist, Kairi sprang to her feet.

"Sora! Oh my fucking god, where were you? I was so worried about you! I was gonna call the cops, but then I thought—."

Sora grinned, chocolate brown hair plastered to his cheeks. "I'm fine Kairi. Chill out."

Kairi ignored him, racing forward and flinging her arms around him. It was a mark of how strong their friendship was that neither felt awkward about Sora being practically naked.

"Fuck, Sora! Where the hell were you?"

"It was storming," Sora shrugged. "I didn't want to walk home in that."

Kairi let go off him, following a few steps behind as he walked down the hall to the guest room. She stood outside in the hall as he searched through his suitcase for something to wear.

"So you spent the night in that mansion? Jesus, that musta've been _creepy._"

"Not really," he called, voice slightly muffled by the shirt he was pulling over his head.

* * *

Tifa was drumming her fingers wearily on the counter, letting the smell of espresso wash over her. It was barely ten o'clock, and the Open Eye was packed with noisy teenagers and sleepy-looking business men. No summer vacation for the suits. Tifa grinned. She still had for years of college before she would have to dive into that 'real' world of conniving, cheating and double-dealing. For now, she'd just rule her own.

Axel sat down next to her, leaning against the bar. Tifa couldn't help but notice that he didn't call her 'baby' and kiss her like he usually did in greeting. She raised an eyebrow at his ragged appearance.

"I went running," he shrugged, pushing back his rather greasy hair.

"Ever hear of a shower?" Tifa sniffed, taking a sip of her free coffee. No paying for the owner's daughter.

A hint of annoyance came into Axel's voice. "You told me you wanted to meet me at ten. I came. What the hell more do you want?"

"For you to be perfect," Tifa said sweetly, only half sarcastic. Being born into a family like hers made someone expect flawlessness.

Too bad people were a little more complex than stereo systems of cell phones.

"You didn't come over last night," she commented.

"You didn't ask me to."

"I didn't used to _have _to. You'd just be there. Now it's like you never even want to see me anymore…"

Axel sighed, rubbing his temples. "Not right now, Tifa, please."

Tifa crossed her arms, lips forming a lady-like pout. "Axel, are you cheating on me?"

"No way," he snorted, waving the thought aside like the ridiculous notion it was. "Why the hell would I cheat on you? There isn't a woman out there other than you who could ever do anything for me."  
It was then that Axel's phone rang. He and his suspicious girlfriend looked at each other for a few seconds before he reached reluctantly into his jeans and checked the screen.

"Gotta take this, Tif. It's my dad."

"Fine," Tifa shrugged, buying it reluctantly. Axel's dad lived in France and he saw him usually only once or twice a year.

Ducking out of the coffee shop, Axel flipped open the phone and held it to his ear. "What the fuck are you doing?" was his greeting.

He was answered by a maliciously amused laugh. "You're with her right now, aren't you?" asked a voice that was most definitely not his father's.

"She's inside the Open Eye," Axel said quickly, glancing over his shoulder, suddenly paranoid.

His correspondent gave an aggravated sigh. "Don't you ever do anything besides drink coffee?"

"Why yes," Axel answered, frowning slightly. "Or did you get too shitfaced to remember last night?"

"Like anyone could forget that. You're an animal when you're drunk, Axel."

Axel rolled his eyes. "Roxas, I told you not to call me during the day. Can't you wait until tonight?"

"Fuck that. Fuck her. Tifa, I mean. Why don't you just dump the bitch?"

Axel, leaning against the brick wall of the Third Eye, could honestly say that he had no idea. He had no answer, so instead he sighed. "Fine, Roxas. If you want it that bad…meet me on the dunes in two hours."

"Alright then." The smug triumph in that statement was almost a tangible thing.

* * *

As much as he didn't want to see Tifa and the rest of her little idiot squad, Sora found himself following Kairi into the Open Eye Café around a quarter of eleven. It had cleared out a bit by this time of day, but there was still a hefty number of highly caffeinated teenagers hanging over the dark wooden tables. Kairi made a beeline for the bar, which was currently occupied by the bitch goddess herself.

"Sora," Tifa greeted him with a sickly sweet smile. "So glad to see you."

"Dammit, you too, Tifa," Sora said, showing just as many teeth in his smile. _And you can shove it up your ass. _

Kairi jumped up onto a stool and ordered a coffee. She offered to buy something for Sora but he declined. For some reason, he wasn't really in the mood to ingest anything. The events of the night before still had his stomach kind of tight. Instead he glanced toward Tifa.

"Where're Yuffie and Tidus?" _You know, the people I can stand. _

Tifa was examining her nails. "Yuffie's got summer school and Tidus is at work. Axel's outside on the phone with his dad."

"Where does Tidus work?"

"At a bookstore downtown. I've been a couple times. Kind of cool."

"Really?" Sora asked, interested in spite of himself. "We should go sometime, Kairi."

"What?" Kairi said, distracted by the fact that she didn't have any nickels. "Okay, sure, sometime…"

"Hey guys." Axel had joined them, moseying in, looking pleased about something.

"What's got you so happy?" Tifa asked, obviously pissed about something. "Oh, my dad's visiting," Axel said dismissively. "No big deal."

"That's cool, I guess," Tifa said airily, not reacting as Axel kissed her neck tenderly. "Did you notice, baby? Sora's back."

Axel glanced at the brunette. "Hey, Sora. How'd it go last night?"

"Oh, just lovely," Sora commented, throwing Tifa a rather hostile glance. She pretended like she hadn't noticed. Instead she asked Axel:

"Are you going somewhere?" Axel hadn't taken a seat and seemed to be rather worked up.

"Yeah, actually," her boyfriend answered. "I forgot my mom's ordered me to clear out the attic today. I don't show up and she'll eat me for dinner. Sorry, baby, gotta go." With that, he gave Tifa a quick peck on the cheek and booked it out of there.

"Jerk," she muttered, then quickly turned back to the other two. "So, Sora. What did you bring back with you?"

"Wha?" Sora frowned. "Oh, _shit!_" He knew he'd forgotten something.

Tifa looked positively radiant at this prospect. "Too bad, then."

"Come on, Tifa!" said Kairi frantically. "He went in there, dammit! Don't be such a—."

"Sorry, Kairi, but that was the deal." She turned back to Sora. "You didn't bring anything to prove you were there, so you lose."

Before Sora could open his mouth to defend his position, someone slid onto the stool beside him. That someone leaned on their elbow, silvery hair pooling on the dark wood of the bar. Sora felt a tendril of heat flash through his stomach.

The newcomer smiled languidly. "Of course he brought something back. He brought me."

Tifa's mouth formed an 'o' and her eyebrows knit into an angry line. Only for a moment, of course. In next to no time her look of indifference had re-asserted itself.

"Riku," she said lightly, flicking her hair away from her face. "Fancy seeing you here."

Riku's smile was still there, but it had gained an icy tinge. "You know…" he began, stretching luxuriously, "The oddest thing happened last night…"

"Oh?" she inquired politely.

"Yeah." Riku turned his attention to the girl behind the bar. "Hey sweetie. Can I have a double espresso?" The girl nodded, blushing slightly. "Thanks." All charm and kindness promptly left his manner as he looked back at Tifa. "Yeah, it was definitely weird. Sora here…" He slid a hand up Sora's thigh, making him squeak. "…Wandered into my house. What do you think about that?"

Kairi was looking wildly from Riku, Sora, and Tifa, feeling very out of the loop. "What the fuck?" she burst out. "That was Riku's house? Tifa said it was fucking empty!"

Riku gave an exaggerated start of surprise. "What? You guys made him break into my house? Well, holy shit." He leaned across the counter to accept his espresso from the barista. "One k," he muttered to Sora.

"What?"

Riku's sea-green eyes glittered. "There's one k in my name. You spelled it the female way."

"Right," Sora mumbled, blushing. "Sorry about that…about everything."

Riku took a sip of his coffee, fixing the brunette with a contemplative gaze. "You've got nothing to be sorry about, except maybe for running off without a word."

"How'd you know to look for me here?"

"Oh, I know where all the cool people drink their coffee," Riku answered, wadding up the cynicism his words dripped and flinging it into Tifa's face with nothing more than a pointed glance.

She huffed and looked the other way. Riku looked back at Sora and gave him a grin that spoke as loudly as words.

_We win. _

* * *

Axel parked his car in the lot down by the beach that was usually strictly reserved for tourists. Kicking his shoes off and flinging them into the backseat, he wandered off along the dunes, making for the spot they'd agreed on. It was a beautiful day. The storm last night had chased away some of the stifling heat and the air had a clean freshness to it.

There was nobody at the cave when he reached it, so he sank down to the sand, sighing deeply. Tifa was beginning to get suspicious. It wouldn't be long before she put two and two together. Tifa may have been rich, beautiful, and completely ruthless, but she wasn't stupid. Slipping off alone all the time, using dumb excuses; Axel would be discovered eventually, and then the shit would really hit the fan.

His exhaustion caught up with him in that shady little secret spot and he felt himself drift into blissful unconsciousness. Only a few minutes later, however, he felt himself being soothed awake by fingers running through his spiky hair. He cracked an eye open.

"Hey beautiful," he muttered.

The blond who was currently straddling him smiled. He was tanned and smallish, wearing a number of silver chains around his neck and several rings on both his hands. His eyes were pure blue, almost too perfect to be real. He leaned in, kissing Axel lightly.

"Glad you could get away from Her Highness, Mistress of Death," he chuckled.

Axel sat up, laughing in spit of himself. "Oh, go eat it, Roxas."

Roxas grinned evilly. "I was planning on it," he whispered, nipping at Axel's ear. The two boys collapsed into the sand, the redhead rolling over until he was on top, effectively pinning the smaller down. He gazed down at him, a warm glow that he'd never felt with Tifa filling him.

"You seem kinda preoccupied," Roxas said huskily, thrusting upward and grinding against Axel, shocking a gasp from him.

"I was," he grunted. "I'm not anymore." He placed a hand on either side of the blonde's head, kissing him hotly. Roxas' arms encircled his shoulders, pulling him closer and rolling his hips again. He moaned, feeling the boy's fingers entwine in his hair. His head lolled back, giving Axel access to his neck. Neither of them was sure exactly who pulled who's clothes off, but a moment later they were both naked and grinding against each other hungrily.

"Fuck," Axel gasped, breathing heavily as Roxas pinned him to the sand. "Roxas…ahhh!"

Roxas sucked harder on the throbbing erection, making him writhe against the ground. Axel's hands skittered through the soft sand, trying and failing to find something to hold onto. Roxas was at too awkward and angle to reach, so he ended up having to run his fingers through his own hair, eyes watering as his grip tightened. His hips jerked and Roxas shoved him back down, giving him a glare.

"Just hold still," he muttered. "Jeez, can't even suck the guy off without getting injured in the process…"

Axel tried to laugh but it turned into a strangled shout as he came, body shaking with release. Roxas lay down next to him, running warm hands over his chest.

* * *

See? Now everyone can stop complaining about the Axel/Tifa thing. He's cheating on her, folks!

Anyway, leave me a review if you approve of this turn in events!


	4. Looks Can Be Deceiving

Disclaimer: I own really hardcore stuff, like red armchairs and a snazzy laptop, but I don't own Riku and Sora. I'd trade my red armchair for them, but not the snazzy laptop.

Hey everyone, thanks for the reviews!

Oh, and I have a funny little story to tell. My friend Jack and I were in class Thursday morning, and we were talking about Kingdom Hearts and he said, "You know, the guys in the Organization sure have odd names." I agreed and then started thinking about my favorite one of the names…I looked up with this goofy smile and said, "Oh my god, Xemnas is an anagram for 'man sex'!"

Jack and I laughed hysterically and got yelled at, and every time we passed each other in the hall that day we'd be like "Man sex!"

Has anybody else noticed that? Leave me a review and tell me so!

* * *

Chapter 4

Looks Can Be Deceiving

Yuffie could almost feel her brain molding. It was the second week of holiday, the sun was shining, the palms were swaying in the light breeze, and here she was in a stuffy classroom, up to her ass in history. Summer school sucked.

The teacher was droning on and on about some random era in European history called the Enlightenment. Well, it didn't sound too enlightening to Yuffie, who really wanted to beat her head against her desk. Who knew failing could lead to this much annoyance and despair? God, she wished she had just done what Tidus had done and cheated her way through!

At the end of the lesson Mr. Highwind passed back the tests from several days before. Yuffie took a deep breath and turned hers over. 57. Again. Why the hell did she keep getting fucking 57? Just three more measly percentage points and she would be passing!

Sighing, she slid the test into her textbook and stood up. Just as she had set her sights on the door and freedom, she was called back.

"Hey, Yuffie. C'mere a sec."

Yuffie groaned internally, turning back and marching over the teacher's desk. Mr. Highwind was shuffling papers, sliding files into drawers, and mopping up the coffee he'd spilled a couple of minutes ago.

"Yes sir?" Yuffie asked dully.

"I'm guessing from that tone you saw you're latest test score?"

"Yeah…"

Mr. Highwind sighed, the sunlight glinting off his shiny bald head. "You can pass this, Yuffie. I know you can. You're not stupid."

"Yes sir," Yuffie repeated. For some reason, she felt like beating the guy down. How dare he lie to her and tell her she wasn't stupid? She was as stupid as they came. Everyone told her so. Tifa, her father, that last guy she'd dated…

Mr. Highwind was glaring now. "I've got a tutor for you."

Yuffie was speechless. With shock. With _anger._ "A tutor?" she repeated. "You mean, _more school_?"

"Yes, Yuffie, more school."

* * *

"Oh my god! I cannot I believe you didn't tell me about him!"

Kairi had exploded the second they'd gotten back to her house. They'd parted ways with Riku at The Open Eye, accepting an invitation to come over and hang out at his house that night. He'd even made the offer to Tifa, telling her she and the rest of her gang were welcome as well. She said she'd 'think about it.'

Sora tried to seem just a little guilty as he sat down on the couch beside Kairi, who was nearly shredding the upholstery in her agitation.

"I'm sorry, I just didn't really think it was that important."

"Didn't think it was important!" Kairi smacked him across the head with a flowery pillow. "You moron! He could have been a psycho! He could have called the fucking police!" She took a deep breath. "Okay. I'm over it. So, did you guys have sex?"

"No!" Sora answered, dismayed and blushing. This sentence brought up a whole slew of unwanted thoughts, including what Riku might look like with all his clothes off… He whimpered, putting his head in his hands.

"Ah, puberty," Kairi said wisely, "Those wonderful years in which you cannot help but imagine sexy silver-haired boys in various _positions_—."

"Stop that!" Sora squeaked, aiming a kick her way. She dodged it, giggling.

"He's pretty cool," she admitted finally. "That was pretty much the only time I've seen him outside school."

"How long have you known him?"

Kairi shrugged. "Since I moved here. He kind of keeps to himself, and everyone always says it's because he's an arrogant prick, but he didn't really strike me that way…"

Sora agreed. Riku may have been a lot of things, but he was definitely not arrogant. He couldn't help but wonder if that rumor hadn't been started by a certain raven-haired bitch queen…

"I wonder what he thinks about you…" Kairi mused.

Sora looked at her sharply. "What's that supposed to mean?" he demanded, slightly embarrassed.

Kairi winked conspiratorially. "Oh, nothing. Anyway, moving onto other things. I'm gonna go take a shower. I spent all night worrying about you."

"How does that have to do with taking a shower?" Sora asked, momentarily confused.

"Worrying makes me sweat," Kairi called back along the hall.

Sora wrinkled his nose. "Too much information, Kai!"

* * *

He stretched out on the couch after she disappeared upstairs. Lying there, listening to the faint rush of the water in the shower up above, his thoughts drifted to the one thing he wished he could make himself stop thinking about. Honestly, who'd have thought that his latest crush would be developed while breaking into a mansion by the sea? God damn, life was wacky that way.

"I wonder if he has a boyfriend…" Sora mused.

There wasn't really any doubt left in his mind. If the way Riku had behaved last night (flirting in just about every sense of the word) hadn't convinced him the guy was gay, then this morning definitely had given him all the assurance he would need. He'd practically groped Sora's leg. And he'd done it without blinking, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

_Crap, _Sora thought, disheartened. _A sex god. I don't do too good with sex gods. _

"We're going to Riku's house tonight?" Yuffie asked. "Cool!"

Tifa laughed on the other side of the line. "Yuff, you've got a mansion. It won't be that exciting."

"Not like his! His house is fucking huge! And he's got a pool."

Tifa laughed again. "Whatever, you. Are we going shopping later?"

Yuffie sighed. She switched the phone to her other ear. "I can't, Tifa. I have tutoring."

"Tutoring?" Tifa spat the word out with contempt. "You already have summer school every damn day. Are you telling me you're failing again?"

"Yes," Yuffie said softly.

"Well, that's fucked up, Yuff. I guess I'll see you tonight then. And where the hell are you? What's that sound?"

Yuffie glanced up. "I'm in the park. Some kid just fell off the jungle gym." She glared at the little boy who was sitting on the wood-chip strewn ground, bawling. As she watched, a dark-haired teenager strode over, helping the boy to his feet and brushing him off. They exchanged words and, though the wind rustling to leaves overhead made it impossible for Yuffie to hear them, she was sure the teenager was asking the little boy where his mother was. The little boy pointed to a woman in a business suit who was currently absorbed in a laptop set on the picnic table in front of her.

"Yuffie? Are you there?" Tifa's impatient voice brought Yuffie back to the real world.

"Yeah," she said distractedly. "Look, Tifa, I gotta go. I'll call you later." She pressed the 'end' button on her phone and slid it into her shoulder bag. Her gaze returned to the little boy and his current plight. The dark-haired guy had led him over to the business woman, who seemed to be thanking him profusely. The little boy grinned through his tears and waved goodbye. The teenager smiled, turning away. To Yuffie's total surprise, he headed straight toward her.

"Hello. Are you Yuffie, by any chance?"

"Yeah. And you are?"

"Vincent. Your new tutor."

Yuffie cocked her head, examining him closer. She'd always imagined 'Vincent' to be a really sexy name, and this boy fit it impeccably. There was a smoothness to his motions and an elegance with which his black clothes hung off of him that spoke of incredible grace. His eyes were a very odd scarlet color, but he succeeded in wearing them without seeming sinister.

"You're my tutor?" she asked dubiously. "You don't look like a geek."

Vincent smiled, seemingly unshaken by Yuffie's bluntness. "Looks can be deceiving," he said. "Shall we?" He offered her his arm formally. Yuffie couldn't tell if this was meant as a joke or if he truly was a gentleman. Imagine that, finding a gentleman on this island. The only guys she knew were fuckheads like Axel or dumb jocks like Tidus.

They took a seat on one of the many benches scattered around the park. Vincent crossed his legs and swept an info-gathering gaze over Yuffie. She didn't need to ask to know what his conclusion would be. Ripped jeans from Pac Sun, blue tanktop. A tomboy, but in an upper-class, poser-ish kind of way.

"You don't look like an idiot," Vincent declared a moment later.

"Why thank you," Yuffie said stiffly. That was a little uncalled for but, then again, so was her mentioning that he didn't look like a geek. "Looks can be deceiving," she added after a moment.

* * *

Sora stuck his tongue out at his reflection. Why oh why did he always have to look like such a little boy? And he could find absolutely nothing to wear.

_Why and when did I even buy this? _he pondered in disgust, holding up an acid green pair of shorts. _They make it look like I have some kind of rare fungus growing out of my ass. _

He tossed the shorts aside, digging further into his suitcase. If only he'd known something like this was going to happen, he'd have brought cooler stuff. He had been expecting to do nothing but hang out at the beach with Kairi. As it had turned out, he hadn't gone down to the beach once yet, and here he was, trying in vain to think of a way to impress a gorgeous boy he'd met while committing a felony.

He sighed. It wasn't like he hated how he looked or anything. No, Sora was just wishing he looked…cooler, more mature. Someone Riku would go for.

_Is that what I want? For Riku to 'go' for me? _

His conscience answered for him.

_Fuck yes, you dumbass. _

"Urg!"

Kairi was summoned to the guest room by his cry of frustration. She was greeted by the sight of a clothing explosion, as if America had decided to drop another bomb and had filled it with designer jeans instead of nuclear power.

"Sora, what the hell's wrong with you? Yuffie's coming to pick us up in ten minutes!"

Sitting down on his bed, Sora pouted, throwing his hands up in defeat. "I don't have anything to wear," he muttered.

Kairi stood there for a moment, poised in the doorway with her hands on her hip. Quite unexpectedly, she dissolved into peals of laughter.

"Sora...you are so cute!" she said, fighting to catch her breath. "You sound like a goddamn girl!"

"Yeah, so?" Sora demanded, embarrassed. "I'm gay, remember?"

Kairi shook her head, red hair flopping about her shoulders. She sat down next to Sora and patted his arm sympathetically. "Sora, I know you wanna impress Riku, but I don't think he'll really care what you wear." She grinned. "I bet he'd actually prefer if you showed up naked…"

"Kairi!" Sora yelped, blushing again.

His best friend rose to her feet, digging through the pile of rejected clothes. She held up a pair of tight black pants with a bunch of zippers. "Wear these, they trick the world into thinking you have an ass." Continuing on her search, she emerged with a red and black shirt with a band logo on it. "Ooh, Panic at the Disco," she read. "This could work."

Sora stared at the clothes in his hands. "Won't I look too Emo?"

"Everybody loves a little Emo," Kairi giggled. "Just leave out the eye-liner and you'll look fine."

Twenty minutes later:

"Fuck, this house is huge," Kairi commented, as Yuffie pulled her car into the driveway. The gravel crunched under the tires, mimicking the gravel that seemed to be crunching in Sora's stomach. Shit, he was nervous. The only consolation he had was that the rest of the gang would be there, so he wouldn't have to worry about being alone with Riku. It was partly relief he was feeling, and partly disappointment.

"Yeah, this is way bigger than my house," Yuffie observed. The normally bubbly girl had been strangely quiet through the entire drive, greeting the two of them with nothing more than a small smile. She seemed to be extremely preoccupied. Sora wondered what it could be, but he really was too busy worrying about himself to care that much.

As they clambered out of the car, another vehicle pulled up, parking next to theirs. For a moment Sora simply imagined it was Tifa, but when the door opened it was not Miss Bitch. It was (Sora's stomach flipped over) Riku. His hair was pulled back into shining ponytail and he was wearing smudged eyeliner.

"Hey guys," he greeted them, a little tiredly. His shoulders were slumped and he seemed to be having a hard time walking. Popping his trunk, he got the two bags of groceries in there. Sora quickly came forward and took them from him.

"You look tired," he explained.

Riku broke into a smile. "Thanks. Come on inside."

* * *

There wasn't any sex in this, and I apologize. I promise they'll be some action in the next chapter. 


	5. Manhunt

Disclaimer: Nope. These sexy boys do not belong to me.

Warnings: the usual suspects.

* * *

Chapter 5

Manhunt

Riku wrapped a fluffy purple towel around his waist, sighing at the fogged up mirror. He looked like shit; dark circles under his eyes, a bruise on his right shoulder, and exhaustion dripping from every movement . If it had been any other day he would have just kicked his lovely guests out, but this time there was Sora.

_Sora…_just the thought of those deep blue eyes and that lop-sided little smile made him feel like he was going to pop from the pressure in his stomach. He'd already had to deal with a certain _problem _Sora's arrival had created, alone in the shower, biting his lip to avoid making any noise.

He glared at mirror-Riku.

_This kind of sexual repression isn't good for you, man, _his reflection seemed to say. _Just grab the kid, pin him to the wall, and stick a hand down his pants. That'll show how you really feel… _

Riku began to mechanically comb his hair. The water had turned it to a kind of steel grey. He hated how it looked when it was wet, but he hated blow dryers even more, so he dealt with it.

The truth was, he'd love to do what his libido was telling him to, and it had worked before, with too many boys to count. But Sora was just so adorable, and he seemed so timid, as if any sudden movements might scare him away for good. Riku would not let that happen. He was going to get Sora in bed even if he had to do it the old-fashioned way. Meaning, dinner, movies, and dates.

Up till now, his sex life had been very simple: go out to some club where they didn't care if you were underage, get completely shitfaced, drag some hot guy home, fuck like bunnies, fall asleep next to each other, then get the heck outta there the next morning. If it was a school night, just skip the last two steps. Somehow, he didn't think that would work so well here.

Riku put down the comb, flicking off the bathroom light and stepping out into the hall. He was greeted by the sight of a very embarrassed-looking Sora.

"S-Sorry!" he stuttered, holding up his hands and backing away. Riku noticed that, despite his discomfort, he was unable to look away from the silver-haired boy's naked upper-half.

"Don't worry about it," Riku grinned. "It's not like I got anything you haven't seen. Come on."

Sora hesitated for a mili-second, then followed him down the hall into a big room with a huge bed. The carpet was light and thick, muffling their footsteps. A window overlooked the front drive, offering a view of the line of palms and the street beyond. So far, this was the only room Sora had seen in the house that wasn't hung with expensive looking art. Instead, Riku had pasted the walls with posters of bands and musicals. In one corner there was a tack bored covered in what looked to be ticket stubs from movies and plays.

"You're really into theatre, aren't you?" Sora asked.

"How'd you guess?" Riku chuckled good-naturedly. "Not that I care, really, but I gotta get dressed, so unless you wanna see something you're not quite ready for…"

Sora went red and turned around. Riku laughed inwardly and strode to his closet, dropping the towel on his way. He glanced back to see Sora stiffen as the sound of it hitting the carpet.

_Come on, _he urged silently, _You know you wanna turn around. _

Unfortunately, it looked like Sora's self-control was going to hold out.

_Too bad, _Riku thought, opening his closet door. He dressed in sweats and a tank-top, turning around to admire what those tight pants Sora was wearing did to his ass before saying, "Okay."

Sora faced him, still blushing.

_Did he look after all? _Riku wondered with a sly grin.

"So…" he began, hopping onto his bed for lack of anywhere else to sit, "Are you okay?"

"Huh?" Sora asked, mildly confused.

Riku began to comb his fingers through his hair, teasing out the last of the knots. Little drips of water speckled the bedspread. "I just mean, you're hanging out with Tifa and her band of merry men. There's gotta be a reason for that…"

"Oh," Sora said, looking relived. He perched tentatively at the edge of Riku's bed. "Kairi was my best friend back in Tokyo, and I'm visiting her for the summer."

"And she just happens to run with them?"

"Yeah."

"And they're the reason you broke into my house?"

"Yeah." Sora shrugged. "Guess I fail at resisting peer pressure, huh?"

"S'okay," Riku answered. "I probably would've done the same thing."

A steady mantra had begun pulsing through his head. _I want to fuck him, oh my god, I want to fuck him._ Over and over. He was surprised he hadn't started saying it out loud yet. Sora's words began to drift in one ear and out the other, as he focused on the delicious looking mouth forming them. He couldn't help noticing Sora's hands from where they rested on his knees. They were calloused around the fingertips, like he held a pencil way too much. Riku's stomach gave a little squirm of delight as he thought of what those fingers would feel like, touching him, running up his back, rubbing his—

"Riku?"

Riku jerked back to reality. Sora was looking at him with concern and just a hint of nervousness. Had his predatory thoughts showed up on his face?

"Sorry," he said after a moment. "Spaced out."

* * *

Tifa drummed her fingers on the kitchen table impatiently. She and Axel had showed up a few minutes after the rest of them, and Kairi had already gotten sick of her complaining.

"Seriously," the queen of bitches was going on, "Who invites people over and then takes a goddamn shower?"

"Someone who looks like Riku," Kairi supplied.

Yuffie nodded in agreement. "Yeah, he seemed totally trashed when he pulled up."

"Why the hell was he trashed?" Tifa inquired dully. "Was he drinking or something?"

"I don't think so. It looked more like he'd had a really hard day at work."

Tifa took a handful of chips from the bowl on the table. "What the hell kind of job gets you that beat up?" A slow grin spread across her face. "Hey…I bet he's a prostitute!"

"What?" Kairi, Yuffie, and Axel all exclaimed at once.

Tifa leaned in conspiratorially. "Think about it. He's fucking beautiful, he's all beat up, he's tired, _and_ he's having trouble walking."

"Meaning?" Yuffie inquired innocently.

Tifa gave her an annoyed glance, as though naiveté made her sick.

"Meaning he got fucked in the ass, Yuffie. God, do you have to have everything broken down to you?"

Yuffie lowered her head and muttered something. Kairi couldn't help noticing the remark on her stupidity had bothered her more than usual.

"That doesn't make any sense," Axel was saying to his girlfriend. Giving her much the same look as she had just given Yuffie. "Riku's family are like, millionaires. Why the hell would he have to sell it?"

Tifa shrugged. "Don't ask me. Maybe he's, like, a smack addict and needs money to get his fix, or maybe he just likes to be fucked by old, dirty business men. I don't know."

Kairi laughed at the absurdity of the comment, at the same time offering a silent prayer that it wasn't true. That's all Sora needed, to have a crush on a hooker. Come to think of it, Sora had been checking on Riku for a long time now…

"I'm gonna go find them," she said, getting to her feet. "Make sure they're not having sex in the bathtub."

* * *

Sora found himself frozen to the spot. Riku was looking at him in the strangest way, like a fox stalking a helpless bunny rabbit. His heart beat at a hundred miles per hour as the silver-haired boy began to drag himself sensually across the bedspread, pausing only when there was mere inches between them. Those sea-green eyes burning into Sora's, Riku raised his hand until his fingers were just brushing the boy's cheek.

"Hey, Sora you…oops, sorry." Kairi leaned against the wall, peering in through the door they had neglected to close. "I'm not interrupting something, am I?"

"No, nothing," Sora said quickly, jumping up from the bed and marching into the hallway, muttering about needing something to drink.

_So close…_

Riku fixed Kairi with an exasperated look. "Nice timing, Nakamura. I was just about to make your friend's summer vacation worth it."

"Well, aren't we humble," Kairi bit back, crossing her arms. "I just came to make sure you weren't molesting my houseguest."

"Hey, he was my houseguest too, last night. And why was that?" Riku feigned concentration, tapping a finger against his chin. "Oh yeah! Mr. and Mrs. Fuckface down there thought it would be funny."

Kairi's superior gloat faltered. "I'm sorry about that," she said, and it almost sounded honest.

"Well, I'm not," Riku said flatly. "Sora happens to be the most fuckable thing that's ever broken into my house."

Kairi's expression hardened into one that could have dried up the Gulf of Mexico. "If you hurt him, I swear to god above, I will _crucify _you."

Riku sat back on his bed languidly, a very slight smirk pulling at his lips. "Wow, I'm impressed. Never been threatened with that. Death, sure. Castration, after ever fucking meal. But crucifixion? That's a new one."

Kairi's demeanor remained severe.

Riku sighed, raising a hand. "Fine. I swear on all things good and holy that I will not hurt Sora." He grinned. "Unless of course, he asks me to."

Kairi rolled her eyes, turning and following her best friend back downstairs.

"So, what'ya have to entertain us?" Tifa inquired, practically the moment Riku had subsided into a chair with a grunt, digging into the already half-empty chip bowl. He eyed her gloweringly.

"I have movies, video games, other shit. It doesn't really matter to me."

"Why did you even invite us if you're gonna be a dick about it?"

From the ice-cold look that entered Riku's eyes, it was very apparent he had to exert great self-control not to smack Tifa upside the head. But then his gaze turned to Sora, and immediately all assembled knew the answer to the question. Sora blushed, looking down at the table.

"I have an idea," Tidus spoke up. He had joined them in the last few minutes, fresh from a day of working in that air-conditioned bookstore of his. "We should play manhunt."

"Manhunt?" Riku repeated. "Sounds like my kind of game. How do you play?"

"Yeah, I've never heard of it," Sora said.

Axel shook his head in obvious disappointment. "Ah, city boys. No clue about all the fun shit us hicks do out here in the country."

"Stop being an ass, Axel, and tell them how to play the fucking game," Kairi said.

Axel took a moment to look gallantly wounded. "Anyway, we have to play it outside and it has to be dark. We split into two teams. One team are the hunters and one team are the hunted."

"So basically we speed around in the dark and try to run each other down?" Riku asked, summing it up.

"Basically, yeah," surmised Axel, "But the people who get caught get brought to the jail, which we can make Riku's pool. The boundaries are…let's see…you can go in the house, the street, and the down to the dunes, but if you leave Ocean Blvd you're automatically disqualified.

"What happens to the losers?" Sora inquired.

Axel shook his head, as though this was the most obvious question on Earth. "They get beaten by a big stick, what'd you think? Let's pick teams."

* * *

The final breakdown was this. Hunters: Tifa, Tidus, Sora. Hunted: Kairi, Riku, Yuffie, Axel. They left Riku's house when it got dark. The hunted all scattered into the night, trying to put as much distance between themselves and the opposing team in the time it took the hunters to count to one hundred.

_This is kind of a stupid game, _Sora thought as he jogged down the walkway toward the beach, as per Tifa's instructions. She had ordered him to the dunes and Tidus around the neighborhood, while she herself stayed close to the house. Sora made a face. It didn't take a genius to know that she just didn't feel like charging around blindly like an idiot.

Honestly, he didn't know why he listened to her. Or why anyone listened to her.

All his pissed-off thoughts, however, fled the moment he reached the crest of the last dune. The sun was just sliding beneath the horizon, setting the ocean ablaze with a brilliant orange glow. The clouds overhead were fat and tinted pink, looking like something off of a nature calendar.

"Wow," Sora breathed. It was beautiful and extremely calming. He set off briskly along the sand, keeping a whether eye out for any movement. To tell the truth, he wasn't really that confident he could outrun anyone, except perhaps Kairi. Axel and Yuffie were both in excellent shape and Riku…well, if seeing him in a towel was any indication…

He followed the tide line, eventually coming to a little dock that jutted out into the clear, shallow water. A couple of roughly made boats were tied up it, rising and falling with the gentle surf. Sora stopped to admire a small lagoon, when he noticed what seemed to be a tiny cave opening.

"Ooh, a secret place," Sora said out loud. "Wonder if anyone's hiding in there..?"

Brushing aside the vegetation, he crept into the darkness of the tunnel. It was cool in here, the sand underneath his bare feet never having been touched by the scorching sun. The tunnel opened up to a small, dim cave. Sora blinked, trying to make his eyes adjust to the gloom.

A blur of movement hit his peripheral vision, and suddenly he felt himself tackled to the ground. The soft sand broke most of his fall, but he was still fairly shaken, so he didn't really fight when he felt someone crawl on top of him.

"Hell, looks like you caught me."

"R-Riku?" Sora stuttered.

Sea-green eyes stared down into his and silky hair tickled his chin.

"Yep," came the answer. "It's me."

"Uh…would you mind getting off me?"

"Yes."

Sora bit his lip. "You would mind getting off me?"

"Yes."

A small, amused smile was tugging at Riku's mouth, much like the one he had worn when he'd pushed Sora back onto the leather couch the night before. The smaller boy could feel his heartbeat speeding up and his face growing hot. God, Riku smelled good.

_Please, please, please! _Sora begged the god of teenage hormones, _please, do not let me get a boner! _

Apparently, someone heard his prayers, because the next moment, Riku stood up, allowing Sora to pull himself together. But he barely had enough time to brush the sand off his pants, before the next blow to his self-control was tossed his way.

Riku pulled his shirt off, tossing it carelessly beside him.

* * *

Okay, okay, there wasn't _really _any action in this chapter, and for that I am eternally sorry, but this fic is ending up a lot longer than I actually intended to make it. So the action will be here shortly. This time you got dirty thoughts and shirtless Riku. Hope you enjoyed! 


	6. Don't Let Them Know

I know you are all supremely pissed at me for ending it there, but it was either that or wait forever for me to get some inspiration and have it delayed even longer.

Yes, indeed I have written all of you a nice little lemon. It's not exactly what you were probably expecting, but I imagine you'll enjoy it ;)

Anyway…On to the next chapter!

* * *

Chapter 6

Don't Let Them Know

Before we begin, allow me, the narrator, to give you a bit of insight into the thoughts of two boys currently alone in a cave together.

_Oh my god, everything this kid does makes me want to grab him by the hair, stick my tongue down his throat, and fuck him on a wall. _

And…

_Shit, why is he taking his clothes off? Dammit! Please, no boners!_

Ahem. The narrator has been dragged out and beaten with a stick. Now, back to the story.

Sora focused on not drooling. There was something unbelievably compelling about this dude, something that made him want to give into temptation. Temptation to do what, exactly, he didn't want to torture himself by contemplating. Because it would be just so stupid; doing something with a guy after hardly a day of knowing him.

But, as it was, Riku (who was still half naked, if you remember) took the situation out of his hands. With that mane of unbelievable silver hair and such pale skin, he looked like a kind of god, honing in on his mark. Sora found himself backed against the cave wall, looking up into those gut-clenching eyes.

"Let's get one thing straight," Riku said, grinning roguishly. "I'm _not. _Are you?"

Sora slowly shook his head

"Good. At least now I know I'm not opening some big can of worms."

Riku leaned in, kissing him lightly. Sora just stood there a moment, feeling like a shellshocked idiot, before slowly beginning to respond. He opened his mouth, letting Riku push inside with his questing tongue. It felt good, better than all the kisses he'd had back at home with various boys he'd shown a slight interest in. He'd never gone farther than first base with any of them.

Riku's kisses were wet and demanding. His hands were slipping down Sora's arms, making lazy patterns over his chest. The brunette yipped as he moved his thumbs in slow circles, rubbing his nipples through the material of his T-shirt. Riku snickered at the reaction. His breath was hot on Sora's neck and he shivered and gasped as Riku sucked on the sensitive spot below his ear.

_Shit, _Sora thought, _Shit! _

* * *

Yuffie ground to a halt down at the beach. She had easily given Tidus the slip. Whoever decided that boy should be a jock had definitely been on crack, 'cause the dude couldn't run to save his life. Sighing, she sat down in the sand in the shadow of the cliffs. This game got really boring after awhile.

Her cell phone rang, slicing the silence apart and making her jump. She wrestled it out of her pocket and glanced at the screen. She didn't recognize the number.

"Hello?"

There was a slight pause, before a deep voice said, "Yuffie?"

"Uh…yeah," Yuffie answered, a little nervously.

"It's Vincent."

"Oh! You scared me for a second there."

"Scared you?" He sounded unsure.

"No, I just mean…I didn't recognize your voice. Thought you might be a stalker or something."

"Oh." Another exceedingly awkward pause.

"So, uh…" Yuffie shifted her feet in the sand. "Did you want something?"

"Yes. I was wondering if you wanted to get together tomorrow."

_Is he asking me out? _

"Sure…uh, what'dya wanna do?"

"Well," Vincent went on, "I was thinking we could study, because that's the reason I'm calling you…"

"Oh, yeah. Studying. But tomorrow's Saturday."

"Yes," Vincent agreed hesitantly, as though he couldn't see the problem.

"I don't wanna study on the weekend!"

"Yuffie, I work weekday afternoons."

"What about weekday mornings?"

"You're in summer school. That's why we're studying in the first place."

"Oh, yeah…"

When Vincent spoke next his words had the quality of someone who is trying desperately not to laugh. "Why don't we meet in that place you work? The Open Eye."

"How do you know where I work?" Yuffie asked suspiciously.

"I've been in there a few times. So how about it?"

Yuffie sighed. "Okay. But after eleven o'clock, okay?"

Vincent chuckled. "Sure."

* * *

Axel congratulated himself on his brilliant scheme.

Manhunt. Dammit, who'd have thought that some dumb kid's game would get him off the hook? The prospect of spending an entire night attached to Tifa had had him exceptionally depressed, but now things seemed to be turning out pretty fucking good. It had been very simple to lay out the rules and make everyone think that he _really, really _wanted to play.

Now, he was strolling through the crappy part of town, spirits high and anticipation tingling through his bloodstream. The buildings on either side of the dingy street were ramshackle and decaying, and if Axel had any sense he wouldn't be here all by himself.

But he had always been pretty senseless.

He stopped in front of a particularly abandoned looking building. Conspicuously so, almost, as though someone had purposefully set it up to seem derelict. Of course, the steady pulse of music didn't really add to the illusion. Axel skirted around the corner, walking down a crumbling flight of steps. The door at the bottom stood out amongst the gloom in that it was painted a deep blue and looked relatively new. The name of the establishment was painted in silver.

"Eclipse".

Axel pushed the door open and was immediately drowned in a rush of noise and heat. The dark club was definitely pushing the fire code, not that anyone gave a shit. A small, crowded bar took up about a quarter of the space. The bartender was busy alternately pouring drinks and telling two loudly arguing guys to shut the fuck up. There was no band tonight so the stage was empty, but some generic metal was currently blasting through the speakers.

Axel wasn't exactly dressed for clubbing. If he had had the time or inclination, he would have thrown on some leather pants and looked for someone to grind with. But, as it was, he had shit to do. Nobody even gave him a second glance as he pushed through the crowd toward a door painted with a bright red "staff only". One of the bouncers gave him curt nod as he walked through.

The door closed behind him, the music dropping to a dull pulse. He started down a badly lit corridor. It smelled like sex and alcohol back here, and a few more less savory things. All the doors were locked, he knew, except the one to the very back room, which had fallen off its hinges a couple months ago. It had been replaced with a dark sheet.

This Axel pushed aside, emerging in cool, dark room. The whirring of an electric fan came from somewhere within, and the only light leaked in around the edges of a boarded up window near the ceiling.

"Finally," came a voice. "What the hell took you so long?"

Light hands wrapped around Axel's waist, drawing him forward into a wet kiss. Roxas really knew how to use his tongue. So unlike a girl. Girls just sat there and _took _it. He couldn't be with Tifa the way he was with Roxas; rough and uninhibited. Totally and completely _free. _

"Look's like a party out there," Axel muttered breathlessly, as Roxas' hands slowly began to work themselves under his shirt.

"Like I give a fuck. I just live here." He hissed as Axel nipped his collar bone. "Uhhhnnn…yeah…" The redhead dragged his tongue along the hollow of his throat, making Roxas press up against him.

They tumbled onto the mattress in a tangle of sheets and limbs. Axel could feel himself getting hard, painfully hard. "Ahhhhhshit," he murmured, as Roxas slipped his knee between his legs, rubbing his crotch lightly. Little spasms flew through his muscles and he wrapped his fingers in the blonde's hair, pulling him into another kiss.

"You wanna be on top?" Roxas asked after a minute or so.

"Fuck yes," Axel said. He felt around the bed for his lover's abandoned pants, his hand closing around the tie he used as a belt.

_Good thing Roxas' a punk, _he thought wickedly.

With deft fingers, he wrapped the tie around the blonde's wrists.

"Mmmm, Axel, you're such a kinky son of a bitch," Roxas panted. "Now touch me before I go fucking insane!"

Axel smirked, grabbing his painful-looking erection and giving it a small twist. Roxas moaned, throwing back his head, sweaty hair flying out of his eyes. When the redhead's movements didn't progress any further than this, he thrust his hips upward, trying to glean some friction from the hand gripping him.

"Come on, dammit!"

Axel licked the curve of his ear. "You got lube?"

"No shit. It's where it always is."

Axel left him for a moment to rifle through a cardboard box that held the bulk of his lover's worldly possessions. Meanwhile, Roxas dragged himself over to the edge of the bed, grinning at his ragged reflection in the cracked mirror. His hands were bound and his hair was mussed and he was trembling with impatience.

Joining him on the mattress, Axel grinned at his position.

"You wanna fuck in front of the mirror?"

"Yeah, why not?" Roxas gave him a sly little glance. "What, does it make you nervous?"

"No," Axel answered, dropping to his knees. He wasn't nervous; it sounded like a damn good idea to him. It was just, Tifa would _never _go for anything that kinky.

_Well, that's why I'm here fucking a guy instead of her. _

Roxas shuddered as Axel slid slick fingers into him. His muscles tensed and he pressed his bound hands up against the mirror, trying to make himself relax. It always hurt at first, but he liked it. "Nnnnn…Axel…damn…" The fingers inside him twisted and he gasped something incoherent.

Axel gritted his teeth, replacing the fingers with his aching cock. He rocked his hips forward and Roxas yelled, face contorting in the mirror. Their skin was white in the darkness, and it was difficult to tell where one reflection began and the other ended.

"Uhhhh, harder, Axel! Fuck, I'm not gonna break!"

Axel complied, upping the ferocity and speed of his thrusts, feeling his body mold into the one in front of him.

"Yeah," Roxas moaned, "Yeah, just like…nnnn…that…gahhhh.!"

The mirror heightened everything for Axel. Actually watching himself pound into the trembling boy in front of him made it all the more real. Their eyes were glazed and dim and their bodies were covered in a sheen of sweat.

Axel could feel his climax getting closer as he watched the blonde's face. It was contorted in combined pleasure and pain, and he didn't think he could come up with a sight more stimulating. Unconsciously, his thrusts got weaker as his thoughts strayed.

"Where are you tonight, Axel? This isn't really doing much for me!"

Axel smiled apologetically. "Sorry…you're just…beautiful."

"That's sweet of you to mention, but right now…just fuck me, okay?"

"Okay," he muttered, re-angling himself and grasping Roxas' hips harder. He set a furious pace, making the blonde arch his back as he finally touched that spot.

"Fuck yeah…god…keep going…right there." Axel loved how vocal he was during sex. It turned him on, especially 'cause he never really made much noise himself.

"Fuck…fuck!" Roxas bucked his hips, bringing himself into a position so that his prostate was hit with every thrust. "More, god…uhn…_Axel!_"

Roxas' bound hands hit the mirror, and Axel was surprised it didn't crack. He wrapped an arm around Roxas' waist, grasping his cock and pumping him hard. All rhythm and control had been completely abandoned at this point, both boys just intent on taking themselves over the edge.

Axel went off first, his orgasm slamming into him like a fist. He gasped once, hand tightening around Roxas. The blonde writhed, cumming a moment later, yelling something that was a combination of Axel's name and about every obscenity known to man.

They fell in a heap on the mattress. Axel's body was shaking with exhaustion and relief all at once. He grinned, running his fingers through Roxas' hair tenderly. "There's cum all over your mirror."

Roxas grunted. "So it'll match the sheets. Shut up, would'ya? I'm trying to _sleep._"

Axel chuckled, wrapping his arms around the warm body beside him and closing his eyes, sighing contentedly. The affection he felt for the boy next to him was beyond anything he'd ever even dreamed of feeling for Tifa.

His relationship with Roxas had begun as something very casual. He'd come to the Eclipse one night hoping to blow of some steam. The club had been almost unbearably crowded, and after awhile he got sick of the veritable mosh pit of a dance floor and went to go get a drink. He was planning on just getting a coke (he didn't have the energy to try to dupe the bartender into thinking he was legal) but when he'd sat down, a blonde boy had offered him the bottle of Bacardi he'd been drinking solo.

"You want?"

Axel raised an eyebrow. _Why the hell is he giving me his alcohol? That shit is expensive!_

He was still a little too naïve to realize that Roxas had been hitting on him. They continued to pass the bottle back and forth all night, maintaining the pleasant buzz in Axel's brain. The two of them got along really well, and around midnight Roxas had invited Axel back to his room.

And the rest, as they say, had been history.


	7. Birthday Gifts

Disclaimer: Not mine.

So, all of you who have been anxiously awaiting some Sora and Riku action, you'll be pleased at a later point in this loooong chapter.

Enjoy!

Chapter 7

Birthday Gifts

* * *

Riku drained his third cup of coffee, staring moodily off into space. He was sitting at the kitchen table in the mansion, depressingly alone. It looked like rain again today. It wasn't that the sky was any less blue than it usually was, but after you lived by the sea as long as Riku had, you could always tell the signs of a storm approaching over the water.

He stood up, setting his mug into the sink. Staring out the bay window at the dunes, he sighed.

_Nice, Riku. Way to get rejected. _

Yesterday in the cave…everything had started alright. At least, he thought it had. He and Sora had made out for awhile, and then he'd tried to take the boy's shirt off. That hadn't turned out to be the wisest move. Sora had gotten spooked and run off, muttering about having something very urgent he needed to do. He'd left Riku sitting alone on the sand, pride shattered. He'd been so incredibly turned on that he'd had to sit there for a few minutes, taking deep, calming breaths.

So the Manhunt game had kind of dissolved into a 'every man go their separate ways' game. Yuffie seemed preoccupied, Tidus was tired, and Kairi had apparently gone home with Sora. Tifa had been pissed off because she'd lost Axel again.

_"Gotta keep a better eye on your things, Tifa." _

_"Shut up, Riku." _

He turned on the faucet, rinsing the brown ring stain from inside the mug. What day was it, anyway? Jeez, he couldn't even remember if he had work this afternoon. That was summer for you; one day bleeding into the other and before you knew it you were swept up in the current. Last summer, before senior year, he'd loved it, actually appreciated the fact he didn't have to drag himself up at the crack of dawn and go to school with all the idiots and rejects Destiny Island had to offer. Most of the people he knew (like Axel and Tifa) would be going to college in September. He knew Kairi and Yuffie both had one more year to go, and he wasn't sure about Tidus. He'd barely even exchanged words with the dude until last night.

Riku's cell-phone rang, filling the kitchen with My Chemical Romance's "The Black Parade". He turned off the faucet, flicked water off his hands, and picked up his phone from the counter.

"Hello?"

"Good, you're awake."

"Kairi?" Riku said uncertainly. "How did you get my number."

"I'm magical. Anyway, I wanted to talk to you about Sora."

_Crap. She's gonna chew me out for trying to undress the kid. _

"Yeah?" he asked, trying to sound cool and unconcerned.

"Sora's birthday is in three days. Did he tell you?"

"No," Riku said surprised. "I had no idea."

"Well, it is, and I'm planning on throwing a party for him at my place, and seeing as you're one of the only people Sora knows on the island who isn't—"

"A complete asshole?"

"I'm not responding to that. So are you in or not?"

"Definitely. What time?"

"Tuesday. Seven."

"Cool." Riku snapped the phone shut. Well, at least now he knew what day it was. Saturday. Meaning he had work this afternoon. Urk.

But a small smile was spreading across his face as he traipsed through the hulking, silent house up to his room. Sora's birthday, huh? Well, he could think of a few nice things he could get him…

* * *

Yuffie got to the Open Eye around eleven. She wasn't working today, but she had asked Vincent to meet her this late in the morning to give the place a chance to empty a little. She didn't want any of her friends to see her actually doing school work on a Saturday. She glanced around for the dark-haired boy, locating him at a table toward the back. He was dressed in black again, and Yuffie got the idea that that was most likely the extent of his wardrobe.

How old is he, she wondered? Eighteen? Nineteen? Possibly even twenty? What the fuck was he doing tutoring an idiot like her?

He saw her, smiling and waving her over. Yuffie liked his smile; it was so different than the ones she was used to. Tifa's and Axel's smiles always held an agenda, Kairi's were always a little less-than-trusting, and Tidus looked like an idiot whenever he made an expression. She slid into the seat across from him, noting he hadn't brought any notes or textbooks. She didn't even see a pencil.

"Good morning," he greeted, pushing a coffee toward her. "I bought you a cappuccino. I hope you like them, I didn't really stop to think…"

"I like them," Yuffie assured him. "Who the hell doesn't?"

"Valid point. Anyway, I was thinking we should start with the Enlightenment, it's—."

"Why?" Yuffie frowned. "I already fucked up that test."

Vincent just raised his coffee cup to his lips. "Yes, but I need you to understand what helped herald all the change of thought in revolutionary Europe. That's your next unit. If we had time, I'd start with the Renaissance, but seeing as how we started so late…"

"Okay," Yuffie grunted, suddenly moody. "Go ahead. But how are you gonna teach me anything without any books? And why did we have to meet in the Open Eye?"

"Because this is what began the Enlightenment." He wrapped his knuckles on the table.

Yuffie raised an eyebrow. "Artificial pine-wood?"

"No," Vincent said, laughing. "This." He took another drink of his coffee.

"Coffee?" Yuffie chuckled. "Don't fuck with me."

"I'm not," Vincent insisted. "Okay, maybe it wasn't the only factor, but think back to what you learned about the Middle Ages and the Renaissance. What was the people's, both peasantry and nobility, most-often consumed beverage?"

Yuffie opened her mouth to tell him she had no bloody idea and that this was stupid, but then she forced herself to think. She knew this. She had actually been awake on the day they'd talked about the Agricultural Revolution and the diet of the population during the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. Oh yeah!

"Beer," she concluded. "They were always drunk off their ass."

"Exactly!" Vincent exclaimed, a little louder than entirely necessary, drawing a few looks from their fellow patrons. "Exactly," he said again, a little lower. "And what do you do when you're drunk, in the renaissance, I mean?"

Yuffie knew this one.

"Run into things. Drive your car—I mean horse—into lakes and cottages and other shit." She tapped her fingers on the table. "Uh…pass out?"

"Good," Vincent encouraged. "And what can you not do when you're passed out?"

"Uh…" Yuffie was thinking how this could possibly tie back to the Enlightenment. "Invent stuff?"

"Yes. Everyone was always drunk, so hardly anything got done. But then the trade routes to China and the New World opened, and Europeans suddenly had a whole knew beverage choice."

"I still don't see your point…" Yuffie said, feeling dumb again.

"I'm getting there. So what does coffee make you do?"

"It keeps you awake. Gets you energized? High?"

"Exactly." Vincent nodded his approval. "So tie it all together."

Yuffie forced herself to think. "So…instead of being drunk all the time…everyone was caffeinated?" She was encouraged by Vincent's nod. "…And they could talk about…things? Like politics and inventions?"

Her tutor clapped twice. "You got it. See? Was that really that difficult?"

"Yes," Yuffie admitted, looking down into her cappuccino. "But I don't mind." She looked up. "Are you really serious, though? Did coffee and tea really make the Enlightenment happen?"

"It was a huge part of it. The biggest slogan in England during that time became, 'tea—the beverage that cheers but does not inebriate'."

Yuffie giggle. "That's fucking awesome."

Vincent smiled. "I told you."

* * *

"You're doing _what_?" Sora demanded.

"I'm throwing you a party," Kairi repeated, folding her arms stubbornly. Sora was sitting across from her at the table, spoon halfway to his mouth and dripping milk and cereal onto the table.

_Jeez, the little bastard doesn't have to look at me like I murdered someone…_

"Kairi!" he whined. "I don't know anyone here. I mean…I don't like anyone here but you!"

Kairi rolled her eyes. "Fuck you, Sora. I could tell you like hanging out with Yuffie and Tidus. You can just ignore Axel and Tifa. They'll probably just make out the whole time, anyway."

"I don't wanna watch that on my birthday!" Sora yelled, making a face.

"Then I'll shove them in the broom cupboard. Chill, Sora. Besides…" She grinned slyly. "Riku's coming."

Sora immediately went very red. "Kairrrriii!" he moaned.

"What? You totally want that kid, Sora, I can tell."

Sora set down his spoon and buried his face in his hands. It was Tuesday morning, June 24th, the day he turned seventeen. It had been three days since that encounter with Riku, and since then he had avoided doing anything that would put him in any contact with the silver haired boy. He'd run off like a fucking nervous kid—it had been so lame of him. Riku probably thought he was most immature thing in the world. It was just…he hadn't known what would happen if he'd let things progress further, and he really didn't want to lose his virginity in a goddamn cave.

"What time tonight?" Sora asked, looking up finally.  
"Seven."

He sighed. "Fine. But let's go down to the beach today, okay?"

"Sure thing," Kairi agreed.

* * *

It was lunch hour for Riku.

Well, more like lunch twenty minutes. His boss never let his employees let up for any longer than that. He let himself out of the building into the breezy afternoon. The sea air here was mixed with the smells of the city; gasoline, fried food, and heated asphalt. It all smelled like home to Riku, who lived out on the dunes but nevertheless spent as much time as he could downtown. Now that he was finally out of high school, though, he'd be leaving soon.

He sighed, shoving his hands into his pockets and striding off down the cracked sidewalk, making for a little café he was known to frequent. He'd miss this place. Not the people, or his house, or his parents, just…the place. There was something about Destiny Island that always stirred the sentimentalist in him. One could almost call it his muse, though he wasn't really sure if a landmass could be a muse.

It would almost be a shame to leave, but if the colleges he'd applied to accepted him, he would be long gone. Riku didn't want to go to school in Japan, no, he'd sent his applications to several universities in the United States, and a couple in England. His English wasn't brilliant, but he knew he could learn.

The Café Mulatto took up a wide street corner, but it wasn't crowded at all at this time of day. Three o'clock was a bit of a bizarre time for a lunch break, as Riku repeatedly told his boss. But did the son of a bitch listen..? Anyway, the only patrons were two girls holding hands across a table toward the back and a scruffy blond boy sitting on one of the stools at the counter. There was a heated debate going on between him and one of the waitresses.

"Sir, the price for soup has been raised. I'm sorry." She didn't sound sorry, in fact, she sounded blatantly exasperated. Not the best form for a waitress, but Riku got the impression that anyone would get a little perturbed from talking to this kid for more than a few seconds.

"Fuck that!" he was saying, loud enough to make the two girls in back look up. "I paid this much for it last week, and I'm not paying anymore. So fuck that!"

"Sir, you already ate the godda-." She swallowed her anger. "Your soup. You already ate it. You _have _to pay for it. I could lose my job if you don't."

The boy shrugged. He looked about sixteen or seventeen, blonde, and kind of out-of place. His raggedy punk clothes did not look like he'd gotten them from a Hot Topic; they looked authentic. Meaning he wasn't a poser.

Wow, just when you thought you had the world all figured out. Someone authentic comes along.

"I don't give a fuck about you and your job," the boy went on. "I just know I ain't gonna spend all my money on a fucking bowl of soup. So eat me."

The waitresses' mouth dropped open. Riku doubted anyone had ever spoken to her like that in her life.

"Here," he said, swooping in before things turned nasty. He dug into his pockets and slapped a folded bill down on the counter. "I'll pay."

The blonde's eyes snapped on to Riku, filling first with anger, and then with indifference. He shrugged. "Whatever. You wanna be a hero and shit, that's your problem."

He turned on his heel, heading out of the café. Riku cast the waitress a sympathetic look. "Assholes suck."

The girl smiled. "Yeah. Can I help you?"

* * *

Sora's birthday was lame. That was really the only word for it. Nobody seemed to be in the mood for partying. Both Yuffie and Axel seemed really distracted, and of course Tifa was her normal 'I am the queen, kneel down and lick my expensive shoes' self. In compensation, Kairi acted obnoxiously happy, quickly getting on everyone's nerves. The only thing Sora really enjoyed about the couple hours was Riku. He was as charming and entertaining as ever, though he seemed exhausted yet again.

"Sorry about this," Sora muttered, shrugging toward the floor where Tidus, Axel, and Yuffie were engaged in an epic Halo battle on Kairi's PS2. Tifa was sitting on the couch, taking up the whole damn thing and staring moodily into space.

Riku laughed softly. "Believe me, I've been to worse parties. A lot of them involved getting seriously fucked up and finding myself on some random person's bedroom floor, but…"

"Sounds…fun," Sora answered, almost bitter. That was just another reminded that Riku was both older and more hardcore than he was. Why the hell was Riku interested in him?

And yeah…was he even interested in him?

_Yeah right, Sora, _he thought, pouting. _Like he was gonna jump you in front of everyone. _

After their encounter in the cave a couple days ago, Sora had been expecting Riku to give some indication of what had passed between them. But no, he hadn't even mentioned it. Was he playing hard to get or had he just forgotten about the whole incident.

"Here," the boy muttered, pulling a wrapped box out of his pocket and sliding it across the table, narrowly missing a bowl of cheetos. "Got you a present."

A wide grin split Sora's face. "Yay! Presents!"

Riku laughed, shaking his head in amusement. "Just open it."

Sora didn't need telling twice. He ripped the gold paper off, opening the small white box. "Cool!" he exclaimed, holding up the thick silver chain. He squinted at the pendant. It was a crown with three points. It hung to his mid-chest when he put it on, and he smiled even more. "This is awesome."

"I'm glad you like it," Riku said. "I saw downtown today. It just made me think of you, I've got no idea why…"

"Maybe I'm just princely," Sora said coyly.

Riku laughed. "Don't flatter yourself."

Around midnight, everyone pretty much said to hell with it and trooped out. Riku left first, saying he really needed to catch up on his sleep. In the foyer, just before he left, he drew up close to Sora, fingering the silver pendant. For a moment, it seemed like he was going to lean in for a kiss, but he pulled away, slipping outside quietly.

Sora was left feeling extremely hot and shaky.

After everyone else had left, Kairi apologized profusely for throwing such a lame party, full of 'dumbasses' and 'losers'.

"It's okay, I had a good time," Sora told her truthfully.

Kairi shrugged. "I'm gonna go to bed, I think." She traipsed up the stairs to her room, leaving Sora to lock the front door and retire to his own room at the end of the back hall.

For some reason, this party had left him entirely exhausted. Honestly, he was usually in better shape after running a couple of miles. Turning down the hallway toward the guest room, he paused.

He'd thought he'd heard footsteps.

"Kairi?" he called, glancing over his shoulder. There was no answer.

_Probably my over-active imagination, _he thought wryly.

Well, at least he thought it until he was grabbed from behind and slammed against the wall.

"Argh!" he yelled, struggling, cheek stinging from the impact.

"Shhh." The voice was low and soothing, and Sora felt a little tingle run up his spine. "Calm down. It's only me."

"Riku?" That spicy cologne had reached his nose and he could feel soft, nimble fingers kneading the muscles of his back.

"I've got another present for you, Sora."

The hands turned him around slowly, until he was face to face with the silver-haired subject of his constant desire. A few shining strands had slipped from behind his ears, drifting in the slight draft the air-conditioner sent through the hallway. His eyes were half-lidded and glowed with that impossible luminescence that seemed to come from the boy's very core. Once again, it made Sora think of a demon.

He wasn't sure whether the thought was terrifying or arousing. Perhaps it was both.

Sora swallowed thickly, willing his heartbeat to slow back down to a reasonable pace. "Another present?" he stuttered, his hand drifting up toward his neck to pull at the pendant.

"Yep." He leaned in, pressing warm kisses to Sora's jaw. His mouth opened and his tongue darted out, licking down to the little pressure point under his ear. He sucked lightly, making the younger boy squeak. Riku pulled back slightly and gave him a swift kiss to the mouth. His hands came up, sliding slowly along Sora's sides and resting at his hips. Drifting down to his knees, he looked up through thick lashes, the intent in his eyes making Sora shake in anticipation.

"After you rejected me and all…" Riku was saying, fingers crawling up Sora's legs and resting on the button above his fly, "I was planning on making you beg for it. But it _is_ your birthday." He pressed his knuckles to the lump forming in the crotch of Sora's jeans, making the brunette jerk into his hand. "So just sit back and enjoy the ride."

_Oh god oh god oh god. _Sora couldn't help the mantra from running through his head as Riku unbuttoned his pants, chuckling softly as he realized the kid was going commando. Well of course, in pants _that _tight. Hot breath ghosted over the head of his already half-formed erection, making him shiver and grind his hips back against the wall.

_Oh shit, is he really gonna do it? _

This question was answered a moment later when his cock was engulfed in a rush of warm heat. Sora gasped, feeling it all the way into the pit of his belly. His fists smacked against the wall and he jerked his hips before he could stop himself.

"Shhh," Riku muttered, pressing a little kiss to the tip. "Just hold still and I'll make you cum like you didn't even know you could."

He spoke this in a throaty whisper that forced Sora to stifle a little moan. Who'd have known he'd like dirty talk so much? But he took Riku's advice and tried to relax his tense body, entwining his fingers in his soft silver hair. An agile tongue wrapped around the head of his dick and his eyes slid shut as Riku began to suck lightly.

Damn, the guy was good at it. Or at least, Sora thought he was. It wasn't like he had anything to base it off of. Though he'd fooled around a little with a whole slew of boys since he'd come out over a year ago, none of them had ever been considerate enough to offer him a little head.

But, shit, it was good. So good he was beginning to feel dizzy. He could hear the blood pounding in his ears, feel the way his nerves seemed to be on fire. Riku began to suck a little harder, sending jolts of intense sensation through his abdomen.

"Rikuuu," he moaned, feeling the heat creeping further down his shaft. The silver-haired boy responded by humming a low note in his throat, sending a ripple of shivers through the cock in his mouth.

"Fuuuck." Sora's fingers tightened in his hair. He could feel the pressure building in his stomach, making his whole body shake with tension. One of Riku's hands came up to fondle his balls, and he came hard, releasing into the hot mouth and feeling his body go limp with the force of orgasm. Riku got to his feet, holding the shaking, flushed boy up. He smiled softly, smoothing Sora's hair away from his sweaty brow.

"Happy birthday," he muttered, giving his softening cock a gentle squeeze and Then he was gone, leaving Sora to sink to the floor in a haze.

Yeah, yeah, a little odd, but definitely sexy. Leave me a review and tell me if you approve!


	8. Unexpected and Unwanted

Disclaimer: Not mine. Nope. I wish.

A/N: Yes, I acknowledge the fact that my updating sucks, but I'm trying to up the quality of this thing. Anyway, some of the actual conflict is gonna enter into this chapter, so be prepared! No angst, though. God, I hate angst.

There's hardly any Sora in this one. How did that happen? I don't know, but it's got other excellent stuff.

So please enjoy!

Chapter 8

Unexpected and Unwanted

* * *

"Where the hell is that little bastard?" 

Yuna turned from her light lined mirror. It was old and cracked in places, but she liked it. She liked the whole dressing room, with its concrete walls hidden behind innumerable posters and playbills. She shared it with a couple of other girls, but their call time wasn't until noon. Placing her curling iron at a safe distance from any flammable materials, such as herself, she gave her visitor a rather cool glance.

"What's the problem, Leon?"

Leon ran an agitated hand through his hair. It was already practically standing on end, suggesting he'd been doing it all morning. There were tired shadows under his stormy eyes and he looked about prepared to beat the next person who vexed him to death. With a table lamp.

"Riku! That little American son of a bitch!"

"He's only half American," Yuna corrected, turning back to her makeup stand and resuming the task of curling her hair.

"Whatever. It doesn't change the fact that he's a half hour late. Oh, and yesterday he told me he refuses to cut his hair." Leon spat this out and threw up his hands as if he'd just announced the world was going to end on next Tuesday.

Yuna held back a grin. "Is that a problem?"

Leon slammed a fist against the door. "Yes, it's a problem! His character is always played with short hair, that's just the way it works."

Yuna flicked her wrist in a little twirl, pulling away the iron and watching as the lock of hair sprang into a tight curl. "Calm down, boss," she said, not without affection. "We're doing just about the most unorthodox version of the show in conceivable history. I don't think a little thing like hair length is going to make much of a difference."

Leon shrugged, letting off a bit. "I suppose. An 'orthodox version' wouldn't really fit the theme."

Yuna flashed him a grin in the mirror. "Exactly." She unplugged the curling iron. "And besides. My eyes are two different colors." Said eyes blinked, the dark green one followed by the blue. "I'm like a husky dog."

"Huskies have blue and brown," Leon said gruffly, leaving the actress to her primping, not bothering to inquire what the color of her eyes had to do with Riku's absence. She had succeeded in quelling his righteous anger, but that didn't change the fact that they needed Riku here and he wasn't to be found. He'd tried calling him twice, both on his home phone _and _his cell phone.

Where the hell was he?

* * *

The answer to this question, and most likely many others, could be found in a mansion by the sea. 

Riku had arrived home the previous evening in exceptionally high spirits. He had just successfully performed operation "Suck Sora Off", and been met with absolutely no resistance. He could tell the kid wanted it, he'd just never go out and say it. But it had gotten Riku exceedingly worked up—the way Sora had been so hot for it. He had pulled into his driveway after the party, exauhsted and elated and wanting nothing more than to go up to his room and jerk off a couple times, when something both unexpected and unwelcome caught his eyes.

A shiny black Mercedes Bienz.

The sign of the devil. Or his parents, whatever you wanted to call them. It was the same basic idea.

_What the hell? _He slammed his car door shut and crunched up the gravel drive. _They're supposed to be in fucking Monaco!_

Punching the code into the digital lock on the front door, he entered the echoy front foyer. He was just about to kick his shoes off when he realized he would't have that luxury anymore. Anything resembling mess would now be punishable by death and castration. Come to think of it, he'd left quite a lot of things lying around the house. Clothes, books, pizza boxes. And…shit, he would be surprised if he had left that yaoi novel open on his desk that morning…

He was greeted before he'd taken two steps inside, not by his parents, but by the housekeeper, Mrs. Pots. She was a grey-haired, rather round old woman who had been serving the Erickson family for nearly fifteen years. Riku liked her immensely, even though he knew she was as under his mother's thumb as it was possible to be.

"Good evening, Mrs. Pots," he greeted her, trying to keep the annoyance out of his voice. It wasn't her he was pissed at. "I thought you had off until August."

Mrs. Pots flicked her duster along the frame of the huge painting that hung on the back wall. "Yes, I did, but your mother called me last night and told me they were heading home. Apparently Monaco didn't agree with them." She gave Riku a kind smile and went back to her feverish cleaning.

Internally, Riku was laughing. Monaco didn't agree withthem indeed…What had been wrong with it? The food? The jetlag? The fact that the locals weren't prepared to bow down and lick his father's feet?

Light was spilling from the dining room, and Riku knew he would have to cross it to get to the stairs that lead to his wing of the house. The clinking of china and low murmur of conversation left him with no doubt that it was occupied. Sighing, he ran a hand through his hair, gritted his teeth, and sauntered into the room.

"Riku!"

His mother was up from her seat in a moment, nearly throwing herself on her teenage son.

"Riku sweetheart! We missed you so much!"

"I, uh, missed you too, Mom," Riku grunted, patting her awkwardly on the head. His mother pulled away, wiping what were almost definitely fake tears. She was a pretty woman, with long, shining silver hair that Riku himself had inherited. Her face was classic and heavily made up. Her clothing was rather subdued, a white blouse and light blue A-line skirt, but it wasn't difficult to pick out the designer quality.

"Welcome home, Riku," a gruff voice spoke. Riku turned away from his mother, trying to force any semblance of pleasure onto his face upon seeing the man seated at the head of the table.

"Hey, I can say the same thing to you, Dad," he said, swinging his arms casually, then quickly stopping when he remembered his dad hated that particular 'nervous habit'.

"Come have some dinner with us, son." When this man gave you an invitation, it wasn't a request. It was an order. _Enjoy dinner with your loving family or face the consequences. _Riku's father was an American, born and raised in Washington DC. It was because of him that Riku had ended up with a crazy, mismatched name like "Riku Erickson". He was a tall, ruggedly handsome man, with the kind of imposing build most everyone envied. Unlike his son, there was absolutely nothing pretty about him. Riku could remember many times when he'd overheard his mother and father discussing his looks.

"That boy of yours should dress more professionally. And all that shiny hair and girly face make him look like a faggot."

Riku knew it was only because of his mother's sympathy for him that he was allowed to dress the way he did.

He sat down at the table, not bothering to mention that he'd already had dinner. That would only lead to awkward questions about where he'd been and what he'd been doing and who had been there, etc. His mother gave him one last peck on the cheek before taking her place on her husband's other side.

She wrinkled her nose. "Riku, you smell awful. What have you been doing?"

"Uh…sweating?" Riku tried. He was pretty sure that's what his mom was smelling. A mixture of sweat, cologne, and…fuck, he hoped to god he didn't smell like cum.

His mother just gave him a sickeningly sweet little smile. Riku had to focus hard not to choke. He suddenly had a bad taste in his mouth.

Of course, that could've been the cum again…

"So, Riku," his father began, swallowing a fork load of roasted potatoes and dabbing his mouth on a cloth napkin. He cleared his throat, as though trying to inform all assembled that he was about to say something of immense importance. "How has your summer been so far?"

Riku almost laughed outright.

_Well, I've been trying to get into cute little brunette's pants, but he's resisting. Oh, and I'm working that job you forbid me to take. I haven't read any of those books on business and law you gave me in May, 'cause I don't want to go into any of that bullshit when I get to NYU. Oh, and I've masturbated in the Jacuzzi a couple of times. _

"Okay," he answered.

He fervently wanted to get out of his parent's company and go to bed. He was tired, and he had work the next morning. He winced internally at the thought of how he was going to get around his parents without letting on where he was going.

"Well, I certainly hope everything's been going well," his father said, eyes narrowing. _Translation: I hope you've kept your ass in line. _

"Yeah, everything's been great," Riku said evasively, staring at the shining wood of the tabletop. "Hey, dad, I'm kind of exhausted. My I be excused?"

His mother and father glanced at each other. Mr. Erickson nodded curtly, and Riku got to his feet, wondering what that furtive look had been all about. Most likely, they were planning something.

_I seriously hope it's not another CEO's daughter, _he thought, exiting the dining room and climbing the stairs to his room.

He locked his door behind him, tore his shirt off, and surveyed himself in the floor length mirror. He was a lot paler than he usually was in the summer; his boss had forbidden him from getting a tan this summer.

_Wants me to look like a fuckin' anemic…_

Flexing his chest muscles, he grimaced a bit. Because of his job and lack of sleep, he hadn't had the energy to work out lately. If he didn't watch out he would start to lose his six pack. And that would be truly tragic.

In the morning, Riku attempted to slip off quietly and arrive at work early, hoping to get a few things done before rehearsal got into its groove. Unfortunately, he was ambushed on his way down the hall by Mrs. Pots, who informed him that his parents wanted to have breakfast with him.

"Do I have to?" he whined, putting on his 'cute' face.

Mrs. Pots glared with feigned disapproval. "Get into that kitchen, boy, before I have to drag you there by your ear."

Riku laughed at her empty threat, gave her a quick peck on the cheek, and detoured down to the first floor. He took his sweet time, too. He wanted to let his parents know that things had changed while they'd been gone. No more would he take their bullshit, no more would he live his life burdened down by his mother's prejudices or his father's expectations.

Though Riku had spent the majority of his time at home in the kitchen during the last few weeks, he barely recognized it this morning. Somehow, having his parents there made the room seem alien, as though all the furniture had been rearranged overnight. His mother was filing her nails and sipping at an energy shake. Her hair was in one long, shining braid. She'd never go out of the house like that (braids weren't 'in', you see) but Mrs. Erickson often wore it like that when there was no one to see her but her family. Riku's father was at the other end of the table, drinking coffee and reading the morning paper, a thoughtful crease dividing his forehead. Riku couldn't remember the last time when he'd seen his parents share a meal in any other way than one at either end, with at least five feet between them.

"Good morning," he greeted them, not even bothering to try to force a cheerful note into his voice. What the fuck was there to be cheerful about?

Except of course the fact that he'd finally gotten Sora's pants down…

He quickly forced that thought out of his head. It just felt weird, catching himself dwelling on sex whenever he was near his conservative, straight-laced parents.

His father glanced up from his paper and grunted in acknowledgement. He wasn't much of a morning person. Vaguely, Riku wondered why the heck they wanted him to make an appearance, if they were just going to sit there and ignore him. He frowned. Since he had become a teenager his father's vendetta had been to make life as difficult as possible for him. Silly to think that anything would have changed over the last month.

"Here, sweetheart," his mother said, smiling and pushing a plate of hot cinnamon rolls toward him. "Rebekah baked them this morning."

"I'm not hungry," Riku mumbled, which was a complete lie. He was hungry, but he'd eat when he got to the theatre. His director insisted that his character was supposed to be kind of sickly looking, so Riku had to lose weight. Yuna had a bunch of healthy shit—he'd just steal it from her.

He dug his cell phone out of the pocket of his cargo pants. 8:09. He'd be late in another six minutes. And then Leon would eat him.

And not in the pleasant way.

He swore under his breath. Why did everything have to be so fucking obnoxious?

"Something wrong, Riku?" his father asked, dragging himself up from the depths of international affairs to focus on his son.

Riku reached for a cinnamon roll. Fuck dieting. He's was damn sexy already, and anyone who didn't agree could go jump off a cliff.

"Everything's fine," he growled, taking a resolute bite.

* * *

Yuffie slammed her head down on her desk. 

"Ouch," she said after a moment, her voice muffled by the glossy, faux-wooden surface.

"Hell yeah, Yuffie. 'Ouch' is right."

Yuffie looked up and winced, partially from the pain and partially from the glaring red 62 at the top of her latest history test. She rubbed her forehead gingerly.

"This doesn't make any sense," she protested, trying and failing to keep the whine out of her voice. "I studied with goddamn Vincent! Three times!"

"I'm sorry kid," Cid shrugged, rubbing his bald head. "I really am, but if you don't pass this course you're not gonna graduate, so I suggest you and Vincent get your asses in gear."

So instead of going out that night with Tifa and Axel, Yuffie found herself standing outside a door on the second floor of a little apartment complex. The hallway was lit badly and the carpet was threadbare and stained. Yuffie stiffened a bit and hunched her shoulders as a man two apartments down stuck his head out of the door and watched her with bloodshot eyes. She raised a fist and knocked.

Vincent opened the door almost immediately, much to Yuffie's relief.

"I think your neighbor wants to rape me," she whispered, leaning in close.

Vincent's crimson eyes narrowed. He turned his head and glared. The rapist blanched and retreated, slamming his door.

Vincent grinned. "Come in. Welcome to my home."

Yuffie followed him into the depths of the apartment, marveling at the décor. Compared to the rest of the building, this place was quite posh. The carpets were soft and springy and the furniture in the living room was black leather. The only illumination came from the dwindling daylight outside the open window and the blue glow from a laptop perched on the arm of an overstuffed chair. There was no television to be seen. Somehow, Yuffie wasn't surprised.

"Nice…lair," she commented, sitting down awkwardly. She squinted at the painting hanging on the wall opposite her. She knew she'd seen it before somewhere, but she couldn't place it. Whatever it was, it was creepy. A melting clock draped over the single branch of a spindly tree and…what the hell was that thing, a dead cow?

Vincent sat down next to her, following her gaze and smiling softly.

"Ah, yes. 'The Persistence of Memory' by Salvador Dali. Interesting, no?"

Yuffie nodded slowly. "Yeah…" Her eyes roved over the rest of the room, taking in the sculpture in the corner and two more paintings. "You really like art, huh?"

"Yes," he answered, brushing his dark hair back from his face, smile broadening. "I'm a great fan of surrealism and modernism."

"Who's your favorite artist?"

"Van Gough," he answered, without a moment's hesitation.

"I know him…" Yuffie commented. "Hey! Wasn't his name Vincent?"

"Yeah," Vincent said, his eyes suddenly taking on a faraway look. "That's actually who I'm named after." He sat in silence for a few moments, the evening light sharpening his profile, highlighting those pale, delicate features. Finally, he turned back to Yuffie. "Alright. Explain to me what happened."

"What happed to what?" Yuffie asked, a little rattled.

"Why did you fail your test?"

Yuffie stiffened her jaw. "I didn't fail, I got a fuckin' 62."

He laughed softly. "That's failing in my book. Everything below a C is failing in my book."

"Well, fuck you," Yuffie snapped, her temper getting the better of her. She'd already been beating herself up for the test all day long—she didn't need to take it from him.

"No, Yuffie…" He sighed, putting his head in his hands and messaging his temples. "I'm sorry…I didn't mean it as an insult." He looked back up, the ghost of a grin tugging at the corner of his lips. "You're not very good at history. I'm…I'm not very good with people."

Yuffie shrugged, not meeting his eyes. "S'okay." What was he talking about, not good with people? He'd been fine the three times they'd met at the Open Eye. At least, he hadn't dove under the table when anyone glanced his way or anything.

"Do you want something to drink?" he asked suddenly, getting to his feet and heading toward a door that she could only imagined lead to the kitchen.

"Sure," Yuffie called after him.

She swallowed, gaze going back to The Persistence of Memory. She wished she could relax, but there was just something about Vincent's flat that unnerved her. It wasn't like she was afraid Vincent might hurt her, on the contrary, she felt much safer with him than she did with most people. There was just something strange about him, something _different. _

_Maybe I'm reading his aura or some bullshit like that, _she thought with a snort.

"What's funny?"

Vincent had remerged, bearing two glass tumblers half-full of rich, amber liquid. He made to offer one to her, but drew it back at the last second.  
"Oh, shit, I'm sorry. I forgot you were so young. I'll get you—."

"No, it's okay," Yuffie interrupted him. "I-I just mean…I don't exactly follow that law. I actually…drink pretty often."

She was expecting Vincent to still refuse, and possibly even scold her, but he just handed her the glass. She sniffed at it once and took a sip. It was good, whatever it was, and it burned all the way down. Yuffie hadn't mentioned the fact that when she'd said drinking, she'd meant having a couple of illegitimately obtained beers with her friends every weekend or so. Occasionally they'd get a bottle of Smirnoff or something like that, but she'd never had anything remotely chic. However, she didn't want to reveal her lack of sophistication by asking Vincent what this stuff was.

He sat back down next to her. "You still haven't told me why you failed. Were you paying attention when we met?"

Yuffie took another sip. "No…I mean, yeah, I was. I paid attention, I swear, it's just, I'm really bad at taking tests." She said all of this in a rush, embarrassed.

Vincent nodded his understanding. "You don't have to explain it. A lot of people get nervous during tests. They blank out, no matter how much they studied."

Yuffie nodded vigorously. "Yeah! That's it! I fucking blank out all the time!"

Vincent shrugged. "Unfortunately, that's just something you have to get over."

* * *

It wasn't until after eight o'clock that night that Sora finally worked up the courage to call Riku. What the hell do you say to a guy who gave you head in a hallway and then ran off without a word? 

He dialed the silver haired boys number and then sat there on the edge of his bed, chewing his lip. It only rang once, which was lucky, as Sora was sure he would have lost his nerve if he'd had to wait any longer for Riku to pick up.

"Hello?" said a husky voice that nearly made Sora's toes curl.

"R-Riku!" he managed to choke out, forgetting his carefully rehearsed speech in an instant.

_Come on, just because I…did stuff with him doesn't mean I have to turn into a jibbering idiot. _

"Riku, uh…Riku…hi."

Okay, jibbering idiot it is.

A soft laugh greeted his words.

"Sora, I was wondering if you'd call."

Sora frowned. Riku's tone was airy and careless, as if he was talking to someone he didn't give the smallest shit about. It was nothing like the sensual drawl he usually used when conversing with Sora.

"Yeah, I—."

"You want to come over?"

"Sure," Sora said in a small voice, not knowing if he was relived or scared by the fact that Riku still wanted to hang out with him.

"I'm here all night. You can come anytime."

Sora didn't miss the slight emphasis on the second to last word. His stomach did a clumsy back flip.

"O-Okay." He heard a soft click and was left with nothing but the low hum of the dial tone.

He hung the phone up, letting it slip from his hand as he flopped down on the bed. Fuck, life was complicated.

Sora ended up having to walk the couple miles to Riku's mansion. Kairi had a car (which she drove with rather dubious credentials) but she was off buying food for whatever new concoction she was planned on preparing tomorrow. And anyway, Sora didn't feel like dying anytime soon. Girl drove like a fucking maniac.

Of course, it wasn't like he was unused to psychos on the road. He was from Tokyo, for chrissake. That was one of the reasons he like Destiny Island so much; back at home he wouldn't have been wandering anywhere alone, especially not after dark. Here, he could stroll through downtown without a second thought. It was nice—not having to worry about being brutally murdered or raped.

It took half an hour to walk to Riku's house, and by the time he got there he was fervently wishing he'd just waited until Kairi got home. Better to risk getting into a fatal car crash than to show up dripping with sweat and smelling like a bucket of…well, a bucket of something unpleasant. The humidity here was awful, and Sora's T-shirt was sticking uncomfortably to his back.

Riku, he had no doubt, would be as impeccable as usual. Not a strand of hair out of place, not a wrinkle in his clothing. Unless of course, he wanted the wrinkles there. Then they would magically appear. And he would smell just like he always did—spicy and exotic.

His nerves beginning to spiral out of control once again, Sora climbed the front steps.

* * *

I hope you guys enjoyed. This was kind of a connector chapter. We'll get into some real action next time… ;) 


	9. If You're Not the One

Disclaimer: If I owned Kingdom Hearts, I would bang Riku. Unfortunately, I must leave that to Sora.

Everyone! I am so sorry for this delay! It's been what, two months? I am downright horrified with myself. I don't know how I managed to let this slide out of my attention. Well, yes I do, but how about I talk about that later and just let you read right

Chapter 9

If You're Not the One

* * *

"Do you like it?"

Axel held the ring up to the weak yellow light of the cracked lamp. It was thick and silver, the band wrought into the shape of a circle of flames. He slipped it onto one of his long fingers, making it look even paler than usual.

"Rox, this is awesome. Where the fuck did you get something like this?"

A hurt expression crossed Roxas' face, before quickly disappearing, replaced by his usual cavalier half-smile. "I know you think I stole it," he told Axel, "But I didn't. I got a job."

Axel quirked an eyebrow. "You? Get a job?" He slurped up a noodle from the box of Chinese takeout.

"Fuck you," Roxas said, tossing a chopstick at his face.

Axel laughed, putting down his box and settling back on the lumpy mattress. They were once again in Roxas' skuzzy apartment in the back of Club Eclipse. It was late Thursday evening, and he shouldn't have been here. He should have been with Tifa, celebrating their four month anniversary or some such shit, but he couldn't find it in himself to care. He'd much rather be here, with this little fucked up kid from the inner city.

"So what's this exciting new job you've got? Male stripper?"

This time a piece of sweet and sour chicken hit him on the stomach, bouncing off to join the ranks of who knows what Roxas had spread all over his floor.

"No, dumbass. It's at some theatre downtown. Playing guitar."

"You can play the guitar?" Axel asked, sitting up.

Roxas nodded. "Yeah. My dad taught me when I was, like…Christ, I don't even remember how long ago it was."

"I didn't know you had a dad," Axel commented, holding his hand up to the light again and watching the silver shine. Much to his surprise, Roxas scowled.

"I have a dad," he said quietly. "He's just dead, okay?"

"Jeez, Rox, I'm sorry. I'm a total dick."

Roxas managed a little smile. "Yeah, you're a dick. It's alright though. I like dick." He laughed, dragging himself along the mattress to settle in Axel's arms. It was at these rare moments that Axel remembered how young his lover was—barely seventeen. You wouldn't think so at first glance—the hard, often furious eyes coupled with piercings and eyeliner tricked an observer into seeing someone much older. It was hard to believe sometimes, the things this boy had been through, the stories he had told Axel when the two of them were all alone like this.

"You gotta leave, don't you?" Roxas asked after a few moments, glancing up through his bangs.

"Yeah…pretty soon, Rox, I'm sorry. I don't wanna…" He grimaced. He was supposed to go meet Tifa for dinner. Dear _god, _he didn't want to. He never wanted to deal with that bitch again, but he'd dug his own hole, filled it with cold, murky water, and now he had to drown in it.

* * *

Sora was rather upset.

He'd finally worked up enough courage ring the bell of Riku's intimidating front door, only to have it answered by someone who was not a sexy, silver-haired boy. They weren't sexy, they weren't silver-haired. Hell, they weren't even a boy.

"Uh…"

That's what went through Sora's brain when he was greeted by a stern-looking woman in an even sterner looking dress and apron.

"Uh…"

This extremely eloquent sentiment continued to circulate through his head as the woman lead him through the front hall, down the hallway that housed the suspiciously Van Gough-ish painting, and into a warm, steamy room. It was dim, illuminated only by twin lights under the lapping water of the pool. It gave everything a dark, almost ghostly air.

Sora began to think, "Uh…" again, but he was promptly choked off. I don't know if any of you have ever experienced a choking of the thoughts, but I can tell you, it takes quite a bit of a shock.

And the shock of a half-naked Riku pulling his dripping body out of the pool was just enough to nearly send Sora keeling over backwards. His hair was slicked to his neck and shoulders, and he looked like heavenly apparition. Granted, a heavenly apparition that wore blue swim trunks and was practically sex on a stick. Hmmm…not much sex on a stick in heaven.

"Sora," Riku greeted him, sounding only mildly interested, just like he had on the phone. He crossed the tile and chose a towel from the pile. He dried the water from his face and chest, then seemed to think better of it, and tossed it back.

"H-Hey, Riku," Sora said. Jibbering idiot?

Oh, hell yes.

"Glad you could make it," Riku continued. He looked…bored. Sora had to fight to keep himself from crying. Now that Riku had gotten his pants off, did he really want nothing more to do with him?

Luminous green eyes traveled from Sora to the maid-looking woman at his shoulder. "Thanks, Mrs. Pots. Sora might not've been able to navigate the house without your help..." A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, but it was impossible to tell if it was all in fun, or if he really wanted to make Sora feel like a dumbass.

The maid gave him a kind smile. "Anytime. Do you boys need anything?"

Riku shrugged. "Maybe dinner in a little while. My mom and dad are gone until…?"

"One," Mrs. Pots supplied.

Riku snapped his fingers. "Exactly. Thanks, Mr. Pots."

He waited until the retreating steps had all but disappeared. He let out a long, noisy breath.

"Finally."

Before Sora even had the chance to squeak, Riku had streaked forward, grabbing him by the shoulders, tugging his shirt off, and pulling him into the pool. "Argh, Riku!" Sora protested, coughing as his lungs were filled with chlorine. The cool water was a pleasant shock after the debilitating heat of the islands, but he couldn't freaking breathe!

All of a sudden, strong arms wrapped around his chest, pulling him up, up, and…

His head broke the surface. Sora sucked in a deep breath, struggling to get away from the crushing grip.

"Riku, get off!" he protested, as the silver-haired boy giggled like an idiot. "Riku, I'm wearing pants! I can't swim in pants!"

"Let's take them off then," Riku laughed, making a grab for Sora's waistband.

"Help! Rape!" Sora yelled, laughing and grabbing the edge of the pool.

"Shh, you idiot! You want Mrs. Pots to hear us?"

Sora coughed the last drops of water from his lungs and leaned back against the stone side of the pool, resigning himself to having wet pants. Riku dunked his head back in the water, smoothing his hair out of his eyes. They were a little cloudy from the chlorine, but they still were brilliant enough to send little shivers running through Sora's body.

Apparently, he really did shiver, because Riku cocked his head and said, "You cold?"

Sora shook his head earnestly, water flying from his shaggy hair. Riku laughed and grabbed his hand, striking out for the opposite wall and the little crevasse between the concrete floor of the pool and the window.

"I hope you can swim…" he said, just before submerging and kicking away.

Sora rolled his eyes.

_No shit I can swim. It's how I broke in here in the first place, dumbass. _

It was even darker outside, but the water gave off a strangely ethereal glow, lighting up Riku's pale face when he surfaced. He grinned, motioning Sora over to the far end. There was a stone bench there, cut into the side of the pool. The two of them sat, looking out over the hulking shapes of the dunes to where earth met velvet black sky.

"What's it like to live so close to the beach?" Sora asked, resting his chin on his fist.

Riku shrugged. "Salty. Kind of damp. I'm not really the best person to ask, since I've lived here all my life, and it hasn't necessarily been a happy childhood." The silver-haired boy sighed, folding both arms over the edge of the pool and laying his head down, luminous eyes trained on Sora.

"Why haven't you had a nice childhood?" the brunette wanted to know. "You're rich and shit, aren't you?"

He immediately regretted saying that—it just sounded so goddamn shallow. Of course you can have a lot of money and be unhappy. There were other things that were much more important.

"Riku, I didn't mean—."

Riku shook off his apology. "Don't worry about it. I know what you mean. Yeah, I am rich. My dad's the private attorney for a big ass software company in Tokyo. He's barely ever here, and when he is, he's always a fuckin' dick."

"What about your mom?" Sora prodded.

Riku snorted. "That bitch? She's worse. I'm serious—her one goal in life is to be one huge stereotype. And she's fucking good at it too. Wants me to be one."

"A stereotype?"

"Yeah. The perfect son. Prefect grades, perfect friends, perfect looks. But I'm never good enough."

"I think you look perfect."

Sora gasped, slapping a hand over his mouth as he realized what he'd said.

Riku shook his head sadly. "Lots of people tell me that. But do you think it's easy? I mean, for awhile there I had to work out for, like, three hours a day to look like this. I was borderline anorexic. Isn't that pathetic? An anorexic dude?"

"Riku…"

But the silver-haired boy was on a roll.

"And they hate that I can't ever make any friends." He deepened his voice mockingly. "'What kind of loser sits alone in his room all Friday night?' 'Riku, why don't you ever get your fucking ass out of the house?' 'You know, that boy has never had a girlfriend, Hikaru. People are going to start calling him a queer.'"

His eyes were blazing, more blue than green now, reflecting the inner heat, the fire, into the living world. Sora was convinced that if he were to touch him, he'd be scalded. He was surprised the pool water wasn't boiling at this point.

"So your parents don't know you're gay?" He asked it quietly, tentatively, as if Riku might explode.

Riku's shoulders shook, and a shout of near-hysterical laughter burst from him. He buried his face in his hands, trying to muffle the noise. Sora had no choice but to wait for it to subside. God, he hoped Riku wasn't going crazy…

"Fuck," he said, still unable to control his laughter. "Fuck, if they knew I was a fag, if they knew I'd fuck anything with a dick and a half-decent ass…" He hadn't meant it as a jab, but Sora felt it. All his sympathy for the silver-haired boy quickly dried up. Suddenly, it seemed cold out here.

"So…that's all I am." He spoke to the lapping water. "I'm just a dick with a half-decent ass?"

Riku looked up. His eyes were rimmed with red, but it was hard to tell whether that was from crying or just the chlorine. "No…Sora, please, I didn't mean that…I just…" He smiled slightly. "I'm kind of a slut."

Sora didn't know what to do. Should he slap Riku in the face and tell him he never wanted to see him again, that he didn't have time for sluts? Or should he take the distressed boy in his arms, stroke his hair, and tell him everything was okay?

Slowly Sora shook his head. "I don't…really know what to say. I mean, anything I do at this point will be way too soap opera. I'm either supposed to throw myself at you or kick you in the balls. But…I don't know."

Riku just stared at him for a second, mouth slightly agape. His eyes flickered with some internal flame, as if captivated.

A moment later, the spell passed, and Riku was chuckling. He passed a hand over his face and sighed.

"Damn, Sora. You sure are something else."

* * *

Leon leaned back in his desk chair, attempting to stifle a yawn. It had been a long, long day. He'd been up since seven o'clock that morning, waking up early in the hopes of getting rehearsal started at a reasonable hour, only to have one of his lead actors shirking work. Riku had shown up eventually, of course. He always did. Around eleven. He'd had some bullshit story about his parents coming home and not letting him out of the house.

Leon snorted. Fuck that. If the little punk wanted to work for him, he'd have to get his shit together, _and _get to rehearsal, even if he had to go all Lizzie Borden on his parents.

Never know. Could be funny.

The day had progressed on in much the same fashion. The grand piano in the pit had somehow managed to get coffee spilled all over it, rendering it completely and utterly out of tune. Now it sounded more like a hippopotamus with a stomach problem than a musical instrument. The electrics had gone out in a shower of sparks in the first ten minutes of rehearsal, leaving a whole gaggle of grumpy actors and one mildly singed techie.

And to top it all off, the stage director had up and quit.

Fuckin' bitch.

He'd spent the rest of the day running around furiously, calling his agent, flipping through union books, trying to find a replacement. He'd finally found someone who sounded half-promising, and was now sitting in his office and ten o'clock at night, waiting for them to show up. He didn't know if they were a man or a woman—the name was pretty freakin' androgynous.

The theatre on eighth street was old and echoing, and Leon knew the moment his perspective tech director had arrived. The sound of heavy double doors slamming resounded along the long, drafty hallway, and footsteps got closer and closer. Leon sat up straight, running his fingers through his rumpled hair. Always good to look presentable for a future employee.

Or a future fuck. 'Cause if Leon had his way, the man who walked into his office would be both.

He was absolutely gorgeous. Point blank. Conversation over. Done.

He was blonde and rather short, with the sexiest arms Leon had ever seen. Don't ask how arms could be sexy. They can be. And this…Cloud Strife had them. His eyes were big and deeply blue, shining with some inner radiance. His hair was so freakin' spiky—it defied logic that it was actually sticking up like that.

Leon swallowed. It was getting hot in here.

"Hey," the man said, folding his arms over his chest. "You Squall Leonhart?"

Leon forced himself out of his fantasy-induced stupor. "Yeah. Just call me Leon. I'm the director. You have any experience with tech direction?"

Strife snorted. "Experience? I do this professionally, Mr. Leonhart. Isn't that why you called me?"

"It's Leon," Leon corrected silkily, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms to mirror his visitor.

_Cute, but kind of an asshole. _

"Normally, I would do a background check and all that legal bullshit," Leon went on, "But I really need someone right now, so, you're in. I'll see you tomorrow at eight."

------

_If you're not the one, than why does my soul feel glade today? _

_If you're not the one, than why does my hand fit yours this way? _

_------_

The Destiny Islands were beautiful at night. Vibrant life thrived everywhere, from the most beautiful mansions on the seashore, to the tiniest apartments strewn through the lights of the city. Waves crashed down on the beach, sending rippling little breakers speeding up the sand to kiss the toes of a silver-haired boy and his companion as the two of them strolled slowly down the shoreline, the scent of chlorine still on their skin.

-------

_If you are not mine, than why does your heart return my call? _

_If you are not mine, would I have the strength to stand at all? _

_--------_

The cooling summer breeze crept in the open window of a little three roomed flat downtown, stirring the hair of a pale young man as he watched a teenage girl roll over in her sleep, muttering something that could have been his name. He crossed slowly to couch, draping a thin blanket on her supine form. He sat back down in his chair on the other side of the room, slowly swirling the bottle in his hand and tossing back the last few drops.

--------

_I never know what the future brings, but I know you're here with me now. _

_We'll make it through, and I hope you are the one I share my life with. _

_--------_

Pounding music from an underground club pulsed through the bodies of two boys as they made love in the back room. The smaller of the two paused to catch his breath, panting and shaking the sweaty blonde hair out of his eyes. The other made a sound of impatience in the back of his throat, pulling the boy back down for another kiss. The blonde chuckled a little, burying his hands into hair the color of fire. They wore nothing, except for the redhead, who had a small silver ring on one finger.

---------

_I don't want to run away, but I can't take it, I don't understand.  
If I'm not made for you than why does my heart tell me that I am? _

--------

Just outside of town a motorcycle purred a low rumble, its rider gazing out over the sea of lights that was the city, and out past it to the true sea—the endless expanse of inky black ocean stretching across the horizon. He sighed and ran gloved fingers through his spiky blonde hair. Kicking up the brake, he put the bike in gear, turning from the plateau and rumbling back off toward town.

--------

_Is there anyway that I can stay in your arms? _

-------

Inside an old creaking theatre, a man sat at a desk in a quiet office. His pen was poised motionless over a notepad as he stared at the blank cinderblock wall, lost in thought. A dull ache was forming just behind his eyes. He rubbed his hand along his forehead, resolving to get some kind of decent sleep tonight, though he doubted either his mind or his body would calm down enough for him to drift off anytime in the near future. Standing up, he pulled on his leather jacket. He pulled his keys out of his pocket, turned off the lights in the office, and made for the parking lot.

------

_If I don't need you than why am I crying on my bed? _

_If I don't need you than why does your name resound in my head? _

------

And somewhere in the heart of the city, in the very center of the island's nightlife, at the back of a dim resturaunt, a girl sat at a table alone. She wore a dark blue dress and an elegant black shawl, her hair pulled back in a stylish knot. There was a drink beside her, but her plate was as empty as the seat opposite her. Her chin rested in her hand, her gaze sweeping over the large dining room, but not really taking in any of it. She wouldn't stay much longer—he was an hour and a half late. The girl knew how to take a hint.

She stood up, leaving a few bills on the table to pay for the drink. Making her way out of the resturaunt, she paused only to toss a little gold-wrapped box into the garbage.

-------

'_Cause I miss you, body and soul, so strong that it takes my breath away. _

_And I'll breathe you into my heart and pray for the strength to stand today. _

'_Cause I love you, whether it's wrong or right, and though I can't be with you tonight, _

_I know my heart is on your side. _

-------

And that's the end of chapter nine! I hoped everybody liked, as I really, really like this one. Though I do apologize for the random insertion of a song and a montage at the end. I just thought it would be a good moment to kind of lay out all the different sub-plots going on at the moment. And the song is just beautiful. It's called "If You're Not the One", by Daniel Bedingfield. I think it fits this fic really well.

Once again, I apologize for the gruesome delay. I just got a job about a month ago, and I've been desperately trying to fit that writing this into my schedule. Hopefully I've got the hang of it!

Until next time, then.


	10. It's Not a Disorder, It's a Kink

Disclaimer: If it belonged to me, I'd sing and dance. With fervor.

Yo! We're in the double digits, folks! Ten chapters! I'm so excited I am jumping up and down. No, really, I am. If only you could see me.

From here on out, the chapters are gonna get longer, so I hope you guy's attention spans can hold out.

Review please! It keeps me going!

Chapter 10

It's Not a Disorder, It's a Kink

* * *

Axel woke to something hot and hard throbbing between his legs. _Shit, _he was about to think, _I've got a fucking erection and nothing but my right hand, _until a moist heat encased him, making him jerk and let loose a yelping noise, like a puppy being stepped on.

"Roxas…"

"Mmmm?"

"Why are you sucking my dick?" A moment passed and Axel felt the heat draw away.

"Why not?"

Axel cracked an eye open. He was lying flat on his back in Roxas' skuzzy excuse for an apartment, the mattress lumpy and uncomfortable underneath him. Early morning light was leaking in from the grimy window. It was stiflingly hot in the room, but Axel wasn't exactly bothered by that right now. In fact, a nuclear bomb could probably have gone off in the parking lot and Axel wouldn't have batted an eyelid. You couldn't blame the boy. Blowjobs required one's full attention.

He entwined his fingers in Roxas' spiky blonde hair moaning and thrusting into the boys mouth, coming a moment later. He lay back, panting, pulling Roxas up into a warm-armed hug.

"I love you, you know that?"

Roxas laughed. "You didn't last very long," he told him.

Axel swatted him upside the head. "Shut up. I wasn't prepared."

"What, you need to prepare now?"

Axel made an aggravated sound in his throat. "Alright, next time I'll wake you up with my mouth on your dick and we'll see how well you can keep it together, babe."

Roxas buried his head further into Axel's chest, sighing contentedly. "I'm looking forward to it."

Axel stretched luxuriously, exaggerating a yawn and reaching for the clock they'd knocked over last night when he'd slammed Roxas up against the flimsy shelf. Axel didn't even want to see the nasty bruise he most certainly had acquired. Not that Roxas would care at all, he just hated the idea of the blonde boy in pain. God knows he'd had enough of that in his life already.

"You never left last night," Roxas spoke up from somewhere around his stomach.

"Yeah," Axel agreed, sighing.

They lay there in silence for a few minutes, before he felt Roxas clawing his way up his body so their eyes were level. "Are you pissed?"

"Yeah," Axel answered. "Not at you. At myself." He sighed again. "I'm totally fucked up, Rox. I don't know what the fuck to do."

"Stay with me," Roxas said, without a moment's hesitation. "Dump Tifa and stay with me."

Axel let his hands wander the expanse of the boy's smooth back, feeling each individual vertebrae. He was so damn skinny.

"I wish it was that simple, Rox," he said.

"It is. You don't like being with her and you like being with me. Problem solved."

Axel didn't answer, just reached out a long, thin arm and flicked on the rusty old fan that sat on the floor beside their mattress. Its low mechanical whir filled the room, the breeze playing over the boys' faces and soothing the atmosphere in the air-conditioning-less room. Axel pulled Roxas closer, kissing him on the top of the spiky head. Neither of them had gotten much sleep last night (seeing as there had been other more interesting, much more pleasant uses for their time) and he would have been content to just lie here all day long, but his parents were most likely already freaking out. He needed to get home before his worry-wort of a mother called the goddamn cops.

Pity. It was so comfortable here.

And he needed to talk to Tifa. As much as he didn't want to, he had to…

But why? Why should he be miserable? He loved Roxas and Tifa just made him want to strangle someone. He didn't know what had possessed him to go out with her in the first place.

_Maybe the fact she was hot, rich, and fucking insane. I like hot, rich, and fucking insane. _

His gaze slid to the boy in his arms.

_Cute, poor, and insanely fucked up. Not my usual style. _

* * *

Vincent was roused from the black depths of sleep by a sizzling sound. He grunted, sense of smell twitching to life.

Something's…burning?

He was on his feet in an instant, staggering forward and nearly tripping over the coffee table. The room swam for a moment, the vestiges of a hangover making themselves known. He waited until he was sure he wasn't going to pass out, before motoring it to the kitchen, where he was prevented entry by a small, oven-mitted female.

She put her hands on her hips. "What are you running around for, dumbass? You're gonna break all your shiny things."

Vincent's brain fought to catch up with his eyes, putting things together at an almost pitifully slow pace.

Pretty girl, burning smell, oven mitts, burning smell, hangover…

"Burning smell," he muttered astutely.

Yuffie sighed. "Yeah, I know. Apparently "Hi" makes the stove hot, like, really hot."

Vincent rubbed his eyes, things beginning to make a little more sense. "What are you making?" he asked.

"Pancakes!" Yuffie answered brightly, turning and heading back into the kitchen. "The little fuckers aren't really cooperating, but I managed to save a few. Oh," she called back through the door, "I made coffee."

Coffee.

The word echoed through Vincent's head like a lifeline. He watched as Yuffie clattered through the cupboards, already seeming to be well acquainted with the inner-workings of his cramped little kitchen. The coffee maker in the corner was steaming, and it smelled like heaven on earth. Yuffie poured two mugs and handed one to Vincent, turned off the stove, pulled cream out of the refrigerator, and sat down, all at a pace that left him feeling rather breathless.

Who knew Yuffie would be so much of a morning person?

"I didn't know you were so…domestic," Vincent commented, joining her at the table and reaching for the sugar bowl.

Yuffie shrugged. "I was bored, man. You wouldn't wake the fuck up."

"Sorry," he muttered.

Yuffie shrugged. "You must'a drank a whole more than I did…"

Vincent felt his stomach clench. That's right—he'd given Yuffie alcohol, and what was meant to have been an impromptu study session had turned into more of an 'lets hang out and give drinks to underage girls' session.

Vincent put his head on the table. _I am going to hell. Or jail_.

"I shouldn't have done that." He spoke into the lacquered wood, running fingers through his hair.

Yuffie snorted. "I'm not a little saint, with or without your influence, so don't sweat it."

He lifted his head up from the table, sighing and going for the sugar bowl once again. Yuffie was right. There wasn't any doubt in his mind that she could handle herself. He poured a substantial amount of sugar into his coffee, adding enough cream to turn it a sort of muddy brown color. His guest looked on with an expression of amusement on her face.

"What?" he asked as she began to giggle.

Yuffie giggled harder. "I don't know," she said. "But I always kinda imagined you as the black coffee kind of person, but here you are putting in enough sugar and shit to make _me _sick."

Vincent picked up his coffee defensively. "I hate black coffee. It tastes like fish."

"Fish?"

"Yeah." He took a sip. Tasted perfect to him. No fish to be found.

* * *

Leon was roused Saturday morning by the his cell phone's shrill, tinny rendition of the of a Police song, which continued to seep into his sleep-fogged brain even after he'd shoved a pillow over his head. He didn't want to move. This was the first day in about two weeks when he hadn't scheduled a rehearsal, and he was going to enjoy it, dammit! Even if he had to throw his phone through the fucking wall. The ringing stopped and Leon drew in a breath. Whoever it was could go suck on it—he wasn't moving.

He didn't get up for another two hours, and it was nearly eleven when he finally showered and dressed. He paced into the kitchen of his rather dilapidated, low-rent apartment (hey, small time stage directors didn't exactly rake in the cash) turning on the stove and pulling out a box of instant oatmeal. He turned his attention to his phone at last, flicking it open. The number on the screen was unfamiliar, but he dialed the number for voice mail anyway.

"You have one new message," intoned the cheerful recorded voice Too cheerful, if you asked Leon.

"Good morning, Mr. Leonhart." It was a woman, her words rather stilted and hesitant. "I'm calling on behalf of Cloud Strife."

Leon's ears instantly perked up. Over the last three days, Cloud had proven that he hadn't been exaggerating when he'd mentioned he was the best. He'd gotten the electrics fixed in the very first hour, somehow managed to stop the speakers from crackling, and, surprisingly, earned the respect of the entire team of techs working on the production. They all took his orders without hesitation. Leon imagined Strife had threatened them with death or something equally unpleasant.

_My kind of guy_…

Yes indeed, Cloud Strife was definitely a good addition to their crack team.

That's why the woman's next words made Leon's eye twitch.

"I'm sorry, but Cloud's not going to be able to participate in your…show. He's been going through a rough time lately and last night I had him admitted to the hospital. Thanks for understanding. If you have any questions for me, you can reach me on this number. Goodbye."

There was a faint click and the recorded voice was back, asking him whether or not he wanted to play the message again. Leon flipped his phone shut, thinking. Who was this woman. Cloud's sister, maybe. Or his…

Girlfriend.

Yeah, she was probably his girlfriend.

_So he's straight then…_Leon was faintly disappointed. Well, more than faintly. He'd been almost certain that anyone _that _pretty had to lean toward the homosexual. Oh well. That wasn't what was important. What was important was that one of his employees, the best tech director he'd ever had, was in the hospital.

_The whole thing sounds a little suspicious to me, _Leon thought. _She didn't even tell me what's wrong with him. Bitch. _

Oh yeah. He was bitter alright.

Coming to a decision, he turned off the stove and abandoned breakfast, grabbing his keys from the hook by the door.

There was only one hospital on Destiny Island, and nobody really knew what it was actually supposed to be called. Everyone just referred to it as 'the hospital'. It was doubtful even the people who _worked _there knew what it was called.

Leon tried to fight down the feeling of revulsion as his eyes swept the E.R. _They're just sick people. Poor injured bastards. They can't help it. _

Leon had always had a powerful aversion for hospitals; the overly-sterile atmosphere, the blank white walls, and the heavy floral scent used to cover up the smell of death and sickness. It was a mark of how enamored he was of Cloud that he had actually dragged himself out of his house on Saturday morning to visit him. Or at least to find out what was wrong.

He approached the woman behind the security desk. She was big and beefy, with more mustache than most of the men Leon associated with.

"Good morning!" she greeted him, much too cheerily for someone at a hospital.

"Hi…" Leon answered in the monosyllabic way of his. "I'm looking for Cloud Strife."

The woman turned to her computer. "Cloud Strife. Cloud. What a pretty name." She smiled blandly. "And is that _Stryfe, _with a _Y, _or—."

"An I," Leon ground out. "An I."

The woman finished typing Cloud's name into the patient search and hit enter. "Ah, yes. He was admitted yesterday evening into the…psychiatric ward," she said, peering at the screen.

Leon twitched. "Psychiatric ward?"

"Yes, my dear. That's in the B wing. Just follow this hallway to the first fork and turn right. He's in room 203 on the second floor."

"Thanks," Leon said, taking the security pass the woman handed him.

Nervousness was beginning to stir in the pit of his stomach. It was one if thing Cloud had a broken leg or something…but the psychiatric ward? Wasn't that where they put crazy people?

_Strife didn't seem crazy. Maybe a little distant, but not crazy. _

Room 203 was in the middle of a long, bright hallway lined on one side with large windows. Leon imagined they tried to keep the place as cheerful looking as possible, but to him it seemed all it would offer was a glimpse of the outside world the patients had been cut off from. More cruel than cheerful.

The door was wide open when Leon approached, revealing a small private room. Cloud was nowhere to be seen, but there was a girl in a nurse's uniform making the bed. She looked up as Leon entered.

"Can I help you?" she asked. She was young, probably not even out of high school yet. Most likely an intern of some sort.

"I was…uh…I was told this was Cloud Strife's room…"  
The girl smiled warmly. "Yes, it is. Hi, I'm Namine." She offered Leon her hand, which he shook half-heartedly.

"Cloud?"

Namine giggled. "Yeah, Cloud. Of course. He's speaking with one of our psychiatrists at the moment. In fact…" She glanced at her watch. "He's due back any minute now."

"Is he alright?" Leon wanted to know.

Namine brushed her blonde hair back behind her ears, resuming her task of folding blankets. "That's what the psychiatrist is trying to determine. Are you family, by the way?" She looked doubtful. "His brother…?"

"He's my boyfriend," a voice came from the doorway.

Leon nearly passed out.

Cloud walked in, looking tired but unharmed. He was dressed in a ugly blue hospital gown over a pair of sleeping pants that were too large for him. His hair was a little less spiky than usual, and there were dark circles under his eyes. It looked like he hadn't slept in awhile.

But the thing that really caught Leon's eyes was the anger.

Cloud's body was pounding with it. It was in the way he clenched his fists, the way his overly-bright blue eyes flashed. Someone had pissed him off royally, and Leon felt a sudden rush of hate for whoever had caused the blonde to frown like that.

"He's my boyfriend," he repeated.

Namine's eyes quickly jumped from one man to the other. A look of blatant surprise crossed her face, before she quickly beat it back down. "Oh," she said, giving the blanket a hurried final flick. "Oh, well that's fine. I'll just let the doctor know that Mr. Strife has a visitor. How are you feeling, Mr. Strife?" she asked at the last minute, as if remembering her job.

Cloud's jaw tightened. "I'm fine. I keep telling you people that. I'm fine."

Namine just smiled that winning smile that had probably earned her the job in the first place, and left.

"Why'd you say that?" Leon asked when they were alone. Not that he minded or anything, he just hadn't been expecting it.

Cloud sat down on his bed, shoulders drooping slightly. "Because only family and significant others can be admitted. And you look nothing like me."

"Oh," Leon said, hating himself for the rush of disappointment that shot through him at Cloud's words.

_He's straight, remember, self? _

Cloud leaned back on his hands, closing his eyes for a moment and letting out a low sigh. He looked so _tired… _

"Why are you here?" he asked after a moment or two.

Leon shrugged. "I got a call from a girl this morning. Said you were in the hospital. I wanted to know what was up." _It's not like I'm worried about you or anything…I just want to get into your pants. _

To his surprise, Cloud started to laugh. It was the kind of laugh that sends shivers up the spine. "You're just so thorough, aren't you Aeris? Calling my boss and everything…"

"Your girlfriend?"

Cloud hesitated, then nodded slowly.

"You don't look too sure."

Cloud mirrored Leon's earlier shrug. He ran his fingers through his drooping hair in agitation. "Yeah, she's my girlfriend. It's just…I don't know if I can forgive her for this one."

Leon didn't say anything, just waited for Cloud to go on.

"She's a really great person, she's just…neurotic. About me and about the…problems she thinks I have."

"So you don't really need to be here?" Leon asked.

Cloud shook his head, an angry tinge coloring his cheeks. "No. I'm perfectly stable. This is just a waste of my time, but she won't listen, and I can't get out without someone I know signing for me."

"I'll sign for you," Leon said before he even stopped to think about it.

Cloud looked up, hope shining from those gorgeous eyes.

_Even when he's a mess he's still the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. _

"You'd do that? Thanks, boss."

"Call me Leon. I hate 'boss'."

Cloud smiled for the first time since Leon had arrived. It felt like someone had suddenly sucked all the air out of the room.

_Shit, _Leon thought wryly. _I've got it bad. _

Cloud adamantly refused to go home. "Aeris'll send me right back to the goddamn hospital!" he maintained.

Leon adamantly refused to let him check into a hotel. The idea of Cloud all alone in an unfamiliar and unfriendly room was just awful. "It makes absolutely no sense for you to waste your money on that. Just come to my place."

So that was how he ended up with the man of his (wet) dreams naked and showering only two rooms away from where he was sitting in the living room. Leon sighed, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand. How had this day gotten so complicated? He was currently harboring a desperate, _straight _man in his apartment, who may or may not have been as crazy as his girlfriend thought he was.

He tipped his head back, allowing himself to imagine, just for a moment, what Cloud would look like if he were to open that door and march straight into the bathroom. All pale skin and hard muscles, rich blonde hair slicked to his neck and shoulders.

Leon groaned. There was only one phrase for what he'd gotten himself into.

_Deep shit. _

* * *

Riku threw his script across his bedroom, hitting a poster of Johnny Depp square in the forehead.

"Take that, Captain Jack Sparrow…" he yawned, arching his back and stretching out on his bed.

Fuck learning lines. Lines sucked. They had to be memorized, they had to be repeated, and they had to be rehearsed. Sure, after you knew them it was great to have a lot, but in the process…Jesus, it was almost one o'clock in the afternoon! Hell if he was going to spend his one day free of the theatre holed up in his room. He had a new boyfriend to visit.

He got up off his bed, running his fingers through his hair and checking his reflection in the mirror over his bureau. He pulled on a sleeveless denim vest the same color as his jeans and stuck his wallet in his back pocket. After a moment he waltzed over to where the script was lying, all innocent in a corner.

"Ah, my dear friend Mr. Wilde," he said, picking it up. "Why do you cause me so much torment?"

Riku set "The Importance of Being Earnest", on his desk and exited his room.

His parents were absent at the moment; his father out to lunch with a client and his mother getting waxed, plucked, and whatever else they did at that day spa of hers. Riku was quite sure all the worry and energy she spent over making herself look younger was what had caused all the wrinkles in the first place.

He waved to Mrs. Pots as he walked through the kitchen, flipping open his cell phone and pressing '1' on his speed dial. It only rang once before he was answered by a rather breathless Sora.

"H-Hey, Riku!" He panted for a moment. "What's up?"

Riku cocked an eyebrow. "You sound out of breath. What're you doing, having sex?" he asked teasingly.

"No!" Sora said with mock disgust. "We're at the beach. Kairi's teaching me to surf!"

"You're surfing with your cell phone?"

"No, dummy! We're taking a break and she won't give me my goddamn sandwich!"

"Sounds dire," Riku commented, fumbling with his sneakers as he tried to pull them on one-handed. "You guys mind if I join you?"

"No, not at all!" Sora said happily. "We're on the public beach, you know…uh…Kairi, where the hell are we? I don't know this place!"

"I know what you're talking about," Riku said, masking his distaste with a little chuckle.

_The public beach…honestly. _

"Why don't the two of you come up here? We can use my _private _beach."

"Oh, yeah, you do have a private beach." There was a slight hubbub of indiscernible chatter as Kairi and Sora conversed. "Sure, we'll be there in, like, twenty minutes!"

Riku shut his phone, grinning and running back up the wide steps to his room to nab his swimsuit.

* * *

"Hey…Leon?"

Cloud was standing in the doorway, dressed once again in his sagging pajama pants, looking uncertain. He'd discarded the hospital gown and was wearing nothing from his waist up. His hair was still damp and drooping, but Leon had no doubt it would spring back into that impossible style in a few minutes. He took a deep breath, forcing himself to keep his eyes on Cloud's face while he spoke to him.

"Yeah?"

Cloud shifted awkwardly He was covering his upper chest with his arms, as if trying to hide something. "Do you have something I could maybe…wear?"

"Oh, yeah, of course," Leon answered, standing up and striding over to his bedroom. He dithered in front of his closet, wanting desperately to give Cloud something that would show of his terrific ass but at the same time not alert him to the fact he was currently living with someone who wanted to fuck him through the floor. He finally settled on a pair of relatively loose jeans and a black T-shirt. He tossed them to Cloud, who had followed him to his room.

He left him to change, pacing back into the living room and fixing his eyes on the parking lot through a window with faded blue curtains. It was just beginning to occur to him what he'd gotten himself into. Leon barely knew this man, and he knew even less about what exactly was wrong with him. He doubted Cloud's girlfriend would have had him admitted to a mental ward if he'd been in perfect health. And besides, he had no desire to get in the middle of a lover's spat. If Cloud didn't want to go home to his girlfriend, well, that was his business. It wasn't Leon's place to become a third party in that.

He turned as he heard Cloud walk back into the room. The pants were still a little big, but the shirt fit quite well, showing off the muscles Leon knew were lurking just under the thin cloth

"You look nice," he commented.

Cloud looked taken aback. "Thanks," he said after a moment.

Leon frowned internally. Was it possible that Cloud hadn't yet picked up on the fact he was gay?

_Ah shit, _he thought. _This is just gonna fuck things up more. _

"You want something to eat?" he asked after a moment.

Cloud nodded. "Yeah, I haven't had anything since last night."

Leon walked to the little kitchen, opening the refrigerator and staring in dubiously. The dregs of a carton of milk, ketchup, mustard, and beer. The freezer wasn't much better. He glanced at Cloud.

"How do you feel about diners?"

-------

"Can I get you boys something to drink?" the pretty waitress asked.

Leon ordered an ice tea and Cloud just asked for water, staring at the Formica tabletop with a rather glum expression. The waitress gave him a confused look, and went off to put their drink orders in. Leon rested his head on his elbows and sighed quietly, observing the melancholy blonde across from him.

_It's such a shame, _he thought, _that someone this beautiful could be so sad. _

"Cloud?" he said after a couple of minutes of silence.

Cloud looked up. "Huh?"

Leon took a sip of his tea. "Are you okay?"

Cloud nodded slowly, but it was the hesitation that told Leon the real story. There was something eating at him from the inside out, and it wouldn't disappear on its own.

Leon cringed internally. He'd never been talented at psychoanalyzing. He tended to scare people off, not make them want to share their most inner thoughts and feelings.

"Do you want to tell me about what happened?" He cringed yet again. How much more could this day get like a bad soap opera? Not much.

"Huh?" Cloud repeated, looking back up.

Leon put his tea down, deciding to be forceful. "Tell me why you were in the hospital. If you're going to be staying with me—."

"Then you want to know I'm not a psychopath, right?" Cloud smiled humorlessly. "I'm not so sure myself anymore." He sighed, pulling up his sleeves. There were long cuts on his arms, from his biceps through the crooks of his elbows, circling down around his wrists. Leon narrowed his eyes, taking up one of Cloud's arms and examining it. The blonde just looked back at the tabletop.

The cuts weren't jumbled or haphazard, like an emotionally distressed or potentially crazy person would inflict. The slashes also avoided his arteries, ruling out the possibility of attempted suicide. It simply looked like Cloud had felt like drawing his own blood, almost as if…

"Cloud," Leon said in a slow burst of inspiration. "Do you…enjoy pain?"

Cloud just squeezed his eyes shut, and nodded. The waitress took that moment to serve their food, soup and salad for Leon and a big stack of pancakes for Cloud. Leon nodded his thanks but the blonde didn't even look up. He seemed to think that if he stared at the tabletop long enough, everything would work itself out.

"Aeris…thinks it's disgusting," he went on after the waitress had departed. "Being turned on by pain."

"Masochism," Leon supplied.

Cloud glanced up, a fearful look in his eyes, like an animal being backed into a corner. Leon had no idea why. Sure, it might be a rather awkward subject to be discussing with your boss, but still…

It just made Leon want him even more.

"How did you end up at the hospital?" he prodded.

Cloud picked up his fork, taking a bite of his blueberry pancakes at last. He seemed to perk up a bit as he got some food into his system. His voice grew in confidence a little bit at least.

"She's been complaining about it for awhile now, about how I like to be bitten and shit…"

Leon felt his stomach flip over. Not only did Cloud like pain, he liked to be _bitten. _God, this guy was getting better and better.

_I'll bite you, Strife, _he couldn't help thinking, eyeing that slender neck that was just _begging _to be licked and sucked. Ravaged.

He forced himself to listen as Cloud went on, trying to ignore the tightening in his jeans.

"She kept telling me how it was a disorder and how much I could damage myself. Turn into a twisted freak or something. And then last night…" A slow, ashamed blush was creeping over his face like a sunset. "Last night she caught me cutting my arms and…" He didn't seem to be able to get it out.

"Jerking off?" Leon inquired lightly, blowing on a spoonful of chicken noodle soup.

Cloud nodded mournfully, eyes snapping back to the top of the table, his ears bright red. Leon really wanted to lick them, but he held himself back. They were, after all, in a public forum.

He had to admit, he was almost amused by Cloud's problem. He was speaking about as if he had cancer or HIV or something equally life-threatening, not something that could be turned into mutually and _highly _pleasing pastime.

"Cloud," he said, unable to keep the chuckle out of his tone. "You're a masochist. That's not a disorder, it's a kink. One of the better kinks, at that."

Cloud was blushing like crazy now, and looking so insufferably fuckable that Leon had to practice extreme self control to stop himself from throwing the blonde to the floor and having his way with him right there, in the middle of a diner.

"Hey, uh, Leon, can I ask you something?"

"Of course."

"Are you, uh…gay?"

Leon settled back in his booth and crossed his arms, allowing a little smirk to stretch his lips. "How did you ever guess?"

* * *

God, it was pretty LeonxCloud-centric, wasn't it? Sorry, couldn't help it, they're just so hot together, and I love the masochism thing to death. So expect some kinkiness there. ;)

Oh, and we finally found out what play Riku was in! It was originally going to be a musical, but I tried and couldn't imagine Leon directing a musical. Anything involve singing and dancing doesn't really seem to suit him. And Oscar Wildeso awesome I could die.

Please, please, _please _review! It only takes a moment and it means so much to me!!!!!


	11. Nothing but the Truth

Disclaimer: Not mine. Though I plan on abducting Riku and making him my bitch. Watch out, Sora…

Thanks for all the reviews guys! It looks like this story is gaining a little more popularity! Either that or more people are finally deciding to review, which is awesome. We've broken two hundred and I plan on dancing! dances like mad  
Oh, and I'm glad everyone took so well to Cloud's little masochistic problem. I just couldn't help it, 'cause the idea of Cloud all tied up and tortured gets me way too hot for words.

I had such a fun time coming up with the name for the last chapter. I knew a girl who thought there was something wrong with her because she got a thrill whenever she would cut herself shaving. I said, "Don't worry, babe, it's not a disorder, it's a kink."

Oh, and the fucking shift key broke off my laptop so I had to edit it using the other one, which is a bitch. I'm getting it repaired tomorrow but it sure is annoying.

Enjoy!

Chapter 11

Nothing but the Truth

* * *

"Babe, you totally _suck _at surfing."

Sora crossed his arms over his chest and pouted. "It's not my fault we can't _all _be flawless like the incredible Riku."

"Aww, that's so sweet," Riku smirked. "You think I'm flawless."

"Shut up," Sora said, but he was smiling nonetheless. He hesitated a moment, before slowly sidling up and putting his arms around the silver-haired boy. Riku was filled with the barely suppressible urge to jump on him.

There was, however, a slight problem in the form of a skinny girl in a blue bathing suit. Kairi's presence was the only reason he didn't have his tongue in Sora's mouth.

Kairi wrinkled her nose. "Are you guys gonna start groping? 'Cause I can go somewhere else."

Riku opened his mouth to tell her he was in support of this decision, but Sora spoke first.

"You don't have to do that, Kai. We're not gonna grope. Sex in water would be weird."

The three of them had spent the afternoon down on Riku's family's private beach. Sora had thoroughly failed at grasping the concept of surfing, despite both Kairi and Riku demonstrating over and over again. Part of it could have done with the fact that Riku couldn't seem to keep his hands to himself. The little brunette was just so cute, half-naked in those red swim-trunks of his. How could he teach Sora the proper way to mount the surf board, when really he was thinking of mounting something else?

Regardless, they had given up around six o'clock, trooping back up to Riku's backyard. They were now chilling in the shallow end of his swimming pool.

"Actually," Riku said, pulling Sora closer and off the sunken built into the side of pool. "Sex in water is nice. Especially hot water. I have a Jacuzzi," he whispered in Sora's ear.

The brunette reaction was predictable by this time. He went very red and struggled in Riku's grasp, giggling like a dumbass. Kairi just rolled her eyes and tossed a couple of the water rings toward the deep end. She dove in after them, slinking silently under the water in a blur of blue swimsuit and red hair.

"Good, she's gone," Riku muttered with mock-exasperation, nibbling Sora on the neck playfully. The brunette pressed himself closer to his chest, but made no move to reciprocate, though he didn't pull away as the silver haired boy sucked and licked down the curve of his shoulder.

"I wanna make out," he said, speaking into the warm, damp skin.

"Won't your parents see?" Sora asked hastily, moving away from Riku as he tried to kiss him.

The other boy sighed, letting go of Sora's arms reluctantly. "I fucking hate them. My one day off work and I can't even maul my boyfriend."

Sora's eyes were on the surface of the water when he asked quietly, "Boyfriend?"

Riku grinned. "Hell yes. Didn't you get the idea when I sucked you off in a hallway?"

Sora blushed like crazy again, making a squeaking noise and sinking down under the water. Kairi took this opportunity to resurface, five colorful pool rings clutched in her hands. She brushed her hair back out of her eyes. "What the fuck did you do to Sora? Why's he trying to drown himself?"

Riku shrugged. "I don't know."

"Better save him, prince charming," Kairi said, giving him a little grin and pulling herself out of the pool.

Riku sighed and hauled Sora up by the armpits. The boy had his face screwed up and his hair was slicked down, though there wasn't a single doubt that it would be as spiky as ever when it dried. Once again, he avoided Riku's eyes, instead choosing to become very interested in the hemp bracelet around one skinny wrist.

"Sora, why won't you look at me?"

The brunette put his head in his hands and sat back down on the submerged bench. When he finally looked up Riku felt it like a blow to the stomach. His eyes were just so fucking _blue. _And his lips were so…lippy.

_Lippy? Fuck, I've got it bad. It takes a lot to make me mentally incoherent. _

"I was kind of hoping that whole birthday thing was a dream."

Riku opened his mouth, and closed it. Now there was a blow to his ego if there ever was one.

"Was it that bad?"

Sora's eyes widened and he shook his head vigorously. "No!" He reddened further. "No, it wasn't bad…"

Riku put a hand on his hip and flicked a damp clump of hair out of his eyes. "What's the problem then?"

He should have dropped it—discussing it was obviously causing Sora discomfort. But he'd never been overburdened with common sense.

Sora scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. "It's just…you left without saying anything. I thought maybe…"

"Maybe…?" Riku prompted.

Sora was mumbling by now, talking to the surface of the water. "Maybe I didn't taste good…or something…"

Riku couldn't help it. He laughed. A lot. "Christ, Sora." He brushed his fingers over the brunette's shoulder. "Cum isn't supposed to taste good. Pussy tastes even worse," he added as an afterthought.

Sora made a face. "Okay, I _so _did not need to know that."

Riku kept laughing. "It's true. Come on, let's go sit with Kairi. She's moping."

He glanced over to the table at the side of the patio. It was made of opaque glass and had a huge red sun umbrella over it, and a bored-looking Kairi was sitting in one of the chairs, towel wrapped around her waist. The boys clambered out of the pool and dripped a trail of chlorine treated water over the warm concrete on the way.

"I was wondering when you guys would join me," Kairi said, frowning. "For a rich kid, you sure are a crappy host, Riku."

He knew she meant it as a joke, but his eye twitched anyway. "I don't think Sora would agree with you, would you, babe?" He grabbed his boyfriend around the waist, pulling him against his chest and kissing him on the back of the neck.

"Riku, your parents!" he hissed.

Riku huffed. "I doubt they've got their noses pressed to the window. I'm not really sure they're even here…" He spun Sora around and kissed him on the mouth.

"Besides," Kairi added, "You can always just say he tripped and fell on your lips."

"Fuck you," Riku chirped, dropping down into one of the deck chairs and pulling Sora on top of him. He struggled for a few seconds, before giving up and sinking into his embrace.

"You're all clammy and wet," he complained.

"So are you," Riku said, "Like a jellyfish."

"A cute jellyfish," Sora corrected.

"The jellyfish of love," Kairi crooned, clasping her hands dreamily.

"Don't make fun of me," Sora said. "Bitch, I will fuck you up." He snapped three times in a Z formation.

"That was really gay," Riku whispered in his ear.

Sora giggled. "At least I'm staying true to character."

* * *

"Want a beer?"

Cloud looked up from the lumpy couch. Leon had covered it with a faded pink sheet; it was a warm night and he doubted he would need more than that. The blonde looked oddly vulnerable, sitting there all curled up with a blue pillow in his lap.

"Sure."

Leon paced into the kitchen, opening his fridge and snorting at its contents, which now consisted of ketchup, Heineken, and a takeout box full of half eaten pancakes. Why anyone would want to eat leftover pancakes was beyond him, but Cloud had insisted on bringing them back. He grabbed two beers, retracing his steps to the living room and handing one of the opaque green bottles to his guest. He muttered his thanks, popping the cap without the aid of a bottle opener.

_Strong hands, _Leon couldn't help thinking as he set his beer down on the end table. He put a shoulder to the one window looking down over the parking lot, grunting softly as it unstuck. It wasn't much better with the window open, but at least there was some semblance of a breeze. A horribly humid breeze. It occurred to Leon that he hadn't been down to the beach at all this summer. He wondered if Cloud surfed—he kind of looked like the type.

"Thanks," Cloud said again.

Leon turned from the window. His guest's eyes were glued to the carpet, a small blush coloring his cheeks.

"Thanks for…you know. Listening about my…problem."

Leon sat down on the threadbare armchair across from him, putting his feet up on the coffee table. "I told you, it's not a 'problem', it's a—."

"A kink. I heard you before," Cloud mumbled, looking slightly horrified by the thought.

"I think it's hot," Leon said, then immediately regretted it. Cloud's face went even redder, and he appeared to be trying to bury himself in the couch. He looked emotionally exauhsted, really, like everything that had happened in the last twenty four hours had worn him down to the nub.

"Sorry," Leon said, though he wasn't exactly sure what he was apologizing for. "I'm not trying to make you uncomfortable. I'll try to keep the homosexual to a minimum."

"No, you don't have to…" Cloud passed his untouched beer from hand to hand. "It's not…I mean…It doesn't bother me or anything…"

_Well, he fails at lying, at any rate, _Leon thought gloomily.

"So what are going to do about Aeris?" he asked, trying to steer the conversation in a different direction.

Cloud shrugged. He seemed to have a problem with looking Leon in the eye, and the brunette wondered whether it was him in particular or if Cloud was this introverted with everyone.

"I'm not sure. I should probably call her, break up with her properly, but…I just don't want to deal with it." He smiled guiltily at his lap. "I guess I'm just in the 'take the easy way out' frame of mind."

"Nothing wrong with that," Leon said, chugging the last of his beer.

Cloud looked up, blue eyes wide and confused. It was almost laughable, how easy he was to read. Leon was sure, if he had the inclination, he could name every single emotion that flashed through that gaze.

_Maybe he knows he's fucking awful at hiding things. Maybe that's why he'll never look at me. _

"What do you mean, 'nothing wrong with that'?" he demanded. "I'm fucking everything up! How can you just—."

"Goddamn, you really are a masochist, aren't you?" Leon suddenly found the situation grotesquely amusing. "Do you enjoy the mental abuse as much as the physical? If you're looking for someone to tell you what a shithead you are, you're with the wrong guy. Now, if you want someone to mention what a fucking _drama queen _you act like…"

He wasn't sure why he was so mad. Something about the way Cloud was just sitting there, feeling sorry for himself pissed him off. He was talking like it was the end of the world, like getting in a fight with his little girlfriend had just ruined his life.

"Sorry," Cloud muttered, looking back down at the floor.

Leon sighed, unclenching his arms and settling back into the couch. "Don't apologize. Just try to calm down a little, alright? So you like pain. Do you know how sexy some people find that?" He almost added _I know I do, _but stopped himself at the last minute.

The blonde just shrugged.

"And it's convenient too. You know, when you break your arm or something I can play a few holes of golf before bringing you to the hospital."

Cloud smiled a little, but it was forced. Leon didn't blame him. It had been a pretty lousy attempt at levity.

"I guess I'm just tired," he said a few seconds later. "I think I'll…just go to sleep."

"Sure," Leon said, standing up. "You take my bed, I'll take the couch." When Cloud started to protest, he held up a hand. "Don't argue. You're tired and kind of fucked up. It doesn't bother me, I can sleep anywhere."

"Thanks," Cloud said quietly. He gave a little guarded smile and padded back into the dark bedroom, shutting the door behind him.

"I'll be out here if you need anything."

_Like a blowjob, _he added mentally.

Sighing mournfully, he sank down on the couch into the warm spot Cloud had vacated, cursing fortune's cruel hand. Why did the hot guy staying with him have to be angsty and depressed. Not to mention _straight. _

_Fuck that, _said a little voice in Leon's head as he toed off his shoes and pulled his shirt over his head, _Nobody _that _whiny can be straight. He's in denial. _

_Either that or _you're _in denial, _said the meaner, snippier voice.

"Both of you shut up," Leon snarled.

He'd only just gotten his pants off when the phone rang. He grumbled, falling onto the couch and reaching for the receiver.

"Yeah?" he said gruffly.

"Hello, is this Squall Leonhart?"

Leon sat up. "Yeah."

"My name's Aeris Gainsborough. Sorry to bother you this late at night—." Leon glanced at his watch. It was barely ten. "—But I was told you signed Cloud Strife out this afternoon. From North Street Hospital. Is that true?"

"Yeah," Leon said for the third time. The moment he had heard Aeris' name, he'd made up his mind to be even colder than usual. It didn't help that the woman on the other line's tone was wooden and formal, almost condescending.

"Now, I'm aware you are Cloud's boss, Mr. Leonhart, but that doesn't justify what you did. Cloud is a very sick man, he needs help, help that I can't give him, help that you can't—."

"Just wait a second, lady," Leon hissed. He had to keep his voice low, however. Not because he had any qualms about yelling at this woman, but because Cloud would be trying to sleep in the next room. "It's illegal for a hospital to hold someone against their will in a psychiatric ward if they haven't been declared legally insane. I took psych 101 in college, and Cloud is definitely not crazy."  
There was a moment of silence in which Leon heard nothing but crickets and the clunking sounds of a washing machine one floor up. When Aeris finally spoke again it sounded like she was trying to stop herself from breaking down.

"Cloud could hurt himself."

"Really?" Leon said, not bothering at all to keep the sardonic edge out of his voice. "Is that so? So could I. I could fall down the fucking steps on my way out tomorrow."

"That's not what I meant, Mr. Leonhart."

"I know that's not what you meant, Miss Gainsborough, I just can't find it in my heart to care. I don't know you, but I do know Strife." A little. "And from what I've seen the only problem he has is a controlling bitch of a girlfriend."

_Oh snap, _said one of the voices in his head.

_You idiot, _said the other.

Aeris was breathing shallowly and her voice was choked with tears. Some deep, dark, sadistic part of Leon smirked in satisfaction.

"Where is Cloud?" she demanded.

Leon knew it was a bad idea, but he couldn't help it. "Sleeping in my bed," he answered, and promptly hung up.

Okay, it wasn't _necessarily _a lie. Cloud really was sleeping in his bed, just not in the capacity he was yearning for.

* * *

"Come on Tifa, open up."

There was a thud, something that sounded suspiciously like a stuffed animal hitting the door. Possibly the giant, googly-eyed tiger Axel had won her last year at the fair.

"Fuck off."

He sighed, running his fingers through his hair in agitation. "Look, Tifa, I'm really sorry. I wanted to be there last night…"

Footsteps stomped closer, and the door slammed open, almost catching Axel on the side of the face. His eyes widened. Tifa was a mess. Her hair was tangled and unwashed, her face was blotchy, and her eyes were red and puffy.

"We both know that's not true," she accused spitefully. "If you'd wanted to be there, you would have been." She sniffed, wiping the back of her hand over her nose. "You're such an insensitive bastard. I _know _you've been cheating on me, Axel. I'm not an idiot."

All of Axel's rehearsed and pre-written words of apology fell from his tongue, water slipping through his fingers.

_Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. _

"Who is it, huh Axel? Who's the little slut?" Tifa's fists were clenched and she was shaking. It was almost frightening.

"Calm down," Axel said. It was meant to sound soothing, but it just came out pissed. "You're acting crazy."

Tifa moved so fast she was like a blur. A moment later, Axel was reeling backwards, toppling into the wall, one hand clutching his cheek in shock.

"Jesus Christ! Do you wanna kill me? Wait, don't answer that," he said, as Tifa bared her teeth and raised her hand again.

"Come on, Axel," she challenged. "You afraid of a little girl?" She was crying down, tears rolling down her cheeks and dripping off her chin onto the snowy white carpet.

"Calm down," he said again, practically pushing her back into her room and sitting her down on the bed. It was neatly made, the dark blue bedspread tucked in at all four corners and the pillows stacked into little lacy piles. Axel was almost positive Tifa hadn't done it herself; that's what maids were for. The plush rug on the floor was utterly bare of anything, anything at all that might have suggested a teenager lived there. There weren't even posters on the wall, for Christ's sake. Axel had spent plenty of time in this room (though most of that time had been in the dark with his clothes off) but it had always seemed like a bit of an alien landscape to him. Tifa had poured absolutely nothing of herself into it. It was depressing, almost.

_Wait, maybe that's the residual depression I'm experiencing from being kicked out of my house less than half an hour ago. _

Tifa sat down on the top of the bedspread, still refusing to look at Axel. Her mood seemed to have changed from 'homicidal killer bitch' to 'I'm going to ignore you bitch'. Axel wasn't sure which one he preferred.

"Listen, Tif," he said, running his fingers through his hair again and making it stand up even more. "Yeah, you're right. I've been cheating on you."

Tifa just squeezed her eyes shut. Axel expected to see a few more tears escape down her cheeks, but when she looked at him a moment later, her gaze was surprisingly level.

"I knew that already. I just want to know with who."

Axel sat down next to her. "Name's Roxas."

Tifa's pout turned into a sneer. "_Roxas_? What the fuck kind of name is Roxas? She sounds like a real fucking good catch."

Axel drew a deep breath and forced himself to look at his girlfriend. "Roxas is a he."

Tifa looked nonplussed. "What?"

"He. A boy. A male. A short, blonde dude, a—."

But before he could continue his babble, Tifa let out a shout of near-hysterical laughter. "You're a fag?"

Axel shrugged. "I guess I am."

The two of them sat there in silence for a few moments, just looking at each other.

Then Tifa said, "That's disgusting, Axel."

Axel didn't respond, just looked down at the carpet. He'd been afraid of this. "Well, that's your goddamn opinion."

"I can't believe you!" Tifa's voice had risen to a shriek, and she was suddenly on her feet. "You're telling me you've been fucking some guy, and then coming here and sticking your dick in me? You asshole! I could have goddamn AIDS or something! We both could!"

"Roxas doesn't have AIDS," Axel said, anger flickering through him. "He got tested a couple'a months ago."

"Gay guys always get AIDS!" Tifa maintained, her volume still much too high for comfort. "I mean, look at Freddie Mercury!"

"Freddie Mercury wasn't gay, he was bi, and he probably screwed about five people a night. He was a goddamn rock star, dumbass_." _

Tifa slapped him across the face, yet again. "Don't you dare insult me, you fucking queer. Get out of my house!" With that, she flung herself onto her bed and buried her head in her pillow, refusing to say another word.

* * *

"You know, I thought she'd never leave," Riku said, dropping the curtain and turning back to his dark bedroom. The sound of Kairi's retreating car faded slowly away, leaving them in serenity broken only by the muted whir of the overhead fan.

"I think she got the idea you wanted her gone when you practically shoved her through the door," Sora laughed, stretching out on Riku's bed. His hair was still damp and stuck up oddly in the back, making him look vaguely reminiscent of a toucan.

_Sexiest toucan I've ever seen, _Riku thought with a smile.

When he sat down next to him, Riku was expecting Sora to shy away, maybe bury his face in his hands to hide a furious blush. But he just reached for him, making a needy sound in his throat. Riku didn't even waste time to give him a flippant smirk, just pounced, sending them both horizontal.

Sora attacked his mouth viciously, threading his hair through that shiny hair, pulling him close against his body. Hot blood rushed through Riku's veins as he returned the kiss with a vengeance, pushing his tongue into Sora's mouth. He was just reaching for the button on his shorts, when his cell phone rang.

"Holy shit," he muttered, giving Sora one last kiss before dragging himself over the bed to his night table. If it wasn't for that motherfucker Leon he would have just ignored it. His director had once nearly shit a brick when he hadn't answered a couple of weeks ago, when Leon had called up to inform him of some schedule changes.

"Hello?" he said, unable to keep the annoyance out of his tone.

"Hey, Riku?" The voice on the line was very familiar. It pissed Riku off just to hear it.

"Axel? What the fuck do you want?" From somewhere behind him he heard Sora sit up, making an interested noise.

Axel hesitated, no doubt turned off by Riku's tone. Riku rolled his eyes.

_Fuckin' lightweight. _

He tried to force himself to be civil. "Seriously, Axel, what's wrong? It's like eleven."

"It's Saturday, smart shit. And it's summer."

"I have worked tomorrow." Riku sat down on the bed, hitting the speaker button and placing the phone down between him and Sora. It was a little hard to hear, but it worked.

There was a moment of crackly static, before Axel asked, "Are you guys doing anything?"

Riku and Sora glanced at each other. The brunette's eyebrows had shot up all the way into his spiky hair.

"No," he answered, and Riku rolled his eyes. Bullshit they weren't doing anything. They were kissing, possibly about to have sex. If that wasn't something, he didn't know what was.

"Do ya guys maybe wanna go get something to eat or…something? I kind of need to talk to somebody like…you guys."

"Like us?" Riku repeated. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

Sora shot him a dirty look. "Where do you want to meet, Axel?" he asked, dropping his eyes to the phone, as if he might be able to interpret a facial expression through it.

"I dunno…Rita's maybe? Ya know where that is?"

Sora glanced up at Riku. He snorted in annoyance, but nodded yes.

"Yeah, we do," Sora answered. "We'll see you in half an hour?"

There was another moment of silence. "Okay, yeah." The phone clicked off. Riku picked his cell back up, snapping it shut.

"What's Rita's?" Sora asked as he got to his feet.

"Ice Cream place," he said. "Why the hell did you say we'd go?"

"Why the hell did you have to be such a dick?" Sora countered, stepping in front of Riku's mirror and attempting to straighten his messy hair. "

Riku laughed. "A dick? Me? Sora, Axel is a complete asshole. He's never said a kind word to me in my life, and now he wants to hang out? Sound like another of his little pranks."

Sora was now slipping his shirt back over his head, which just served to agitate Riku even further. Just a few seconds ago the brunette had been all hot and bothered and ready to go. Now he was acting like they hadn't just been necking in a dark bedroom. All because some jerk had sounded like he needed help. Sora really was much too kind for his own good. And much too trusting.

"What if he's in trouble?" Sora maintained, eyes wide and innocent. "What if he's like…suicidal or something?"

"Sora, if he was suicidal he wouldn't be calling us. He'd be hanging himself from a balcony or taking a shitload of pills."

"Let's just go," Sora said, leading the way.

* * *

Rita's was crowded, despite the fact that it was almost midnight when they got there. It stayed open late during summer, and did a roaring trade, mostly to High School kids and tourists looking to get a taste of Destiny Island. Rita herself was a woman in her late fifties, friendly and sweet, but with a bad case of short-term memory loss. You'd be halfway through giving her your order and she'd suddenly turn around and start folding the waffle cones. Because of this, several other workers had been hired, upping the customer service rating quite a bit. When Riku and Sora arrived that night, there was a pretty girl with bubblegum pink hair behind the counter, calling orders to two rather flustered-looking twin boys.

"That's a neat gimmick," Riku commented as they slid into a booth. "Come to Rita's and be serviced by two identical boys with identical talents'!"

"You make it sound like it's a brothel," Sora giggled, sneaking a glance over his shoulder.

Riku made an appreciative sound in his throat as one of the twins bent down to retrieve a dropped sugar cone. "They both got one hell of a nice ass."

Sora giggled even more, blushing and kicking him under the table.

"Aw, don't worry, Sora," the silver haired boy laughed, not without affection. "You've got the only ass I want."

Sora buried his face in his arms, collapsing down on the tabletop, his giggles continuing silently. "But you know…" Riku said, his voice dropping in volume as he leaned down, warm breath caressing the brunette's ear. "It wouldn't exactly be cheating, if there was one for both of us…"

Sora squeaked. "Riku!"

"Or," Riku continued, running his fingers through thick dark hair that still smelled strongly of chlorine, "Or…_they _could go at it and we could just watch."

Sora raised his head at this, looking thoroughly violated and completely embarrassed. "_Riku!_"

"Don't _Riku _me. You're tellin' me that idea doesn't turn you at all?"

"Of course it doesn't! That's gross, Riku," he stuttered, but the rosy little blush high on his cheeks told a different story.

Riku settled back into the cushiony booth with a satisfied smile, lacing his fingers behind his head. "See? And besides, that stuff's in porn all the time. Twincest is en vogue right now or some shit ."

Sora muttered something into his shirt front.

"What's that?"

Sora became fidgeted with his bracelet as he said, "I've never seen porn."

Riku's eyebrows shot up. "Are you serious? Not even, like, vanilla hetero porn? Dammit, what kind of teenage boy are you?"

Sora shrugged unhappily and he instantly regretted saying it.

"Sorry, babe. I didn't mean to sound like an asshole. Or a perv," he added as an afterthought.

"It's okay. I know I'm a little naïve and all." He glanced up toward the counter. "I really want some ice cream. Let's not wait for Axel."

"Good plan," Riku agreed, allowing the topic to slip away for the moment. But only for the moment. There would be porn in the future, oh yes.

Riku got a small twisty cone with rainbow sprinkles ('they just suit me so well', he'd said with a grin) and Sora ordered a massive hot fudge sundae which he proceeded to dig into with the enthusiasm of a wolf devouring a fresh kill.

"I can't believe you aren't fat," Riku said, licking his pitiful-in-comparison ice cream cone.

"Shut up," Sora said. "You're just—,"

"Hi guys," someone interrupted.

It was Axel, hands in his pockets and rather apologetic look on his face.

"Hi, Axel!" Sora greeted him. Riku didn't do anything but glare, which was probably why Axel slid in beside the brunette.

"Do you want some of my ice cream?" he offered.

"No thanks. I'm not that hungry."

Actually, he looked rather queasy, like he'd just disembarked a particularly wild roller coaster. There were dark marks around his eyes from lack of sleep and he didn't smell too hot either, like he hadn't taken a shower in a couple of days.

"Axel…you don't look so good. Are you okay?"

He shrugged. "I'll be fine. I just…I just didn't know who else to come to."

Riku was starting to get interested now, and it was pissing him off. He didn't want to give a shit about this son of bitch.

"What the fuck are you talking about?" he prompted, urging him to explain but insulting him at the same time. Good tactic.

Axel didn't answer all at once. Instead he let his eyes wander over to the counter, slowly taking in the ice cream machine and the three kids behind it. His gaze moved over the patrons slowly, one by one. He had the look of a man about to go to his death at the executioner's block, a man saying goodbye to everything he knew. Riku really wanted to say something scathing, but there was something in Sora's glare that stopped him.

"I…I'm gay," he said after another moment.

Silence greeted his words, before Riku began to laugh. He only got a few guffaws out, however, before Sora kicked him in the shins.

"Ow! Son of a bitch," he muttered, rubbing his leg gingerly.

Sora just gave him a winning smile and turned back to Axel. "You're gay? Don't worry about it, we're gay too!"

Axel scratched his head awkwardly. "Heh. Yeah, I…uh, picked up on that."

"Is this the big problem you have?" Riku demanded. "Because if it is, you're pretty sad. Who the fuck cares if you're gay?"

"Tifa did. I've been cheating on her."

Sora winced. "Oh. That sucks." He swatted Axel on the arm. "You're a jerk."

"With who?" Riku wanted to know. He didn't feel an ounce of sympathy for Tifa. She was an evil bitch and deserved whatever she got.

Axel glanced at the clock over the door. "He'll be here in a few minutes."

Riku and Sora glanced at each other.

"So…" Sora said slowly, glancing back at Axel rather ragged appearance. "Is everything else…okay?"

Axel snorted. "Okay? Yeah, sure. If you call 'getting kicked out of your house for admitting you were liked boys' okay."

"Harsh," Sora muttered.

"Why did you tell your parents?" Riku wanted to know, giving his ice cream a particularly violent lick. "That just sounds like asking for trouble."

Axel shrugged. "I thought they would understand…maybe. My dad's usually pretty good with heavy shit like this. Guess not." Suddenly, his eye lit up and he made frantic waving motions with his hands. "Finally. Fucking took you long enough."

"Sorry," the boy approaching their table said. He was small, blonde, and smiling shyly. "Couldn't get away from—."

"Roxas?" Sora whispered the word so quietly it was almost impossible to hear over the chatter of the crowd. "Roxas. Fuck, is that you?"

Roxas just stared for a moment.

"Shit," he said, before turning tail and running back through the door, out onto the dark street beyond.

* * *

So Sora knows Roxas. Hahahah! Bet no one saw that one coming! But yeah, in all honesty, this was a pretty awesome chapter for me. It's about to get even better however, as I am going to introduce a new character soon, who's gonna make this thing even sexier than it already is.

I have a livejournal now, so if ya wanna befriend me, go for it. Oh, and anybody who knows some good sites for layouts, let me know. I hate the boring, standard ones. I can't code worth shit, but if anyone wanted to make me a layout, I would reward you with delicious, custom-made smut of their choosing!

Please review, guys! It means so much to me!

Till next time!


	12. In the Heat of the Night

Disclaimer: Doesn't belong to me. Too bad. Because if it did, I would have a big party. And molest Cloud. In a hot tub. Sorry Leon.

Oh my god, guys, so many fucking reviews! I am so excited. If we could break three hundred with this next chapter, I'd pretty much freak out. And post some smut in celebration. Probably some yummy Cloud/Sephiroth. Or whatever you guys want.

Special thanks to anyone who took the time to tell me what they liked about the chapter. It makes my day.

Chapter 12

In the Heat of the Night

* * *

Sora didn't waste a moment.

He slid out of the booth, down under the table like a burrowing rabbit. With a little cry of, "Sorry, Riku!" he launched himself toward the door, shoving it outward and nearly plowing down a gaggle of middle school girls. Riku and Axel just looked at each other.

"Okay…what the fuck?"

It was hot outside, despite the fact that it was almost midnight and the sun had been down for hours. The street was crowded and for a moment Sora thought he'd lost Roxas, but then he saw a spiky mess of blonde hair streaking around the corner. He followed, damp bangs flopping in his face and necklace slapping and jingling against his chest. He had to elbow his way through a crowd of people outside the cinema, procuring himself several curses and shouts of, "Watch where you're going!"

_Dammit! _he thought as he reached the corner, _since when did Roxas get this fucking fast? _

Sora didn't bother calling out again, just put on an extra burst of speed, catching his query halfway down a wide, dumpster-lined ally. He splashed through a puddle of shiny oil, grabbing Roxas by the hood of his sweatshirt. The little blonde cussed and thrashed, trying to jerk himself out of Sora's grip.

"Roxas, what the hell?" he demanded, refusing to let go. "Why are you running away from me?"

Roxas bared his teeth. His eyes, eyes that looked so much like Sora's, were misting up, as if he was about to cry. But that was absurd. Roxas never cried.

"Because I don't want to see you!" he yelled, his voice cracking on the last word. "I don't wanna see anyone!"

"Roxas…" Sora let go of him, but he seemed to be done with running. He just stood there, panting, sweat running down the sides of his face and plastering his hair to his forehead. "Roxas, what happened? Why did you just take off like that? Roxas…Roxas, are you okay?"

They blonde stumbled a bit, catching himself on the dirty brick wall. His breath was coming fast and he was shivering, despite the heavy sweatshirt. Sora wondered how in the hell he could possibly wear that thing and not die of heat stroke. Roxas squeezed his eyes shut.

"I'm…kinda dizzy," he muttered.

Axel and Riku came around the corner just in time to watch the little blonde collapse into Sora's arms. The sounds of traffic and laughter were oddly muffled by the acoustics of the ally, plunging them into a unsettled sort of semi-silence. Axel made an angry sound, pouncing forward and jerking Roxas from his grasp.

"What the fuck did you do to him?" he demanded, brushing the hair away from his unconscious boyfriend's forehead.

"I didn't do anything!" Sora snarled. Axel took a step back, surprised by the usual calm and amiable boy's viciousness. His eyes were fierce and blazing, his face very pale.

"Christ. You look just like him," Axel breathed. He'd never noticed the resemblance before, but now that he saw them together it was unmistakable. The odd tendency for their hair to stick up at the most awkward angles, their slight build, the big friendly smile. Sora wore that one much more often that Roxas, though right now his expression was tight and angry.

"Roxas is my cousin," he said. "I would never want anything to happen to him."

"We should probably get him to a hospital," Riku said, finally stepping in. "It's a couple blocks away. I'll drive."

* * *

The hospital was just as hopping as Rita's had been. The Emergency Room was packed. They passed a man with one leg on their way in, and a group of women who were all holding each other and crying. Some people in the waiting room were no doubt there in line to be treated, and some of them looked extremely sick. A little girl with her head in her father's lap was having trouble breathing, and every few seconds she would heave a great hacking cough that shook her frail body.

Riku frowned. "I hate hospitals," he commented.

Because Roxas was unconscious, the doctors would see him immediately. Axel set him gently on the stretcher two orderlies had wheeled out, smoothing his hair back and dropping a kiss on his slightly parted lips.

"I'm sorry, but only two of you can come back at a time," one of the orderlies said. He'd flushed slightly when Axel had kissed Roxas, and his speech was overly-friendly in order to cover that up. Riku rolled his eyes. He was more than used to that kind of reaction whenever he showed any affection to _his_ boyfriends in public.

"You guys go back," he said. "You both have more of a connection to him than I do."

"Thanks, Riku," Sora muttered, giving his hand a squeeze. "I'll be back as soon as I can."

"Take your time," he said.

He watched as the orderlies wheeled Roxas out, already calling out stats to each other. Axel and Sora disappeared with them into that long white hallway, the doors swinging shut behind them. Riku sighed, glancing at his watch. It was a quarter of one, and it didn't look like this night on the town was going to end anytime soon.

The waiting room was crowded and noisy, and Riku definitely didn't want to spend any more time in there. He left through the front automatic doors, taking a seat on one of the benches out front. It was hot out here, but he would take it over the interior of a hospital any day. There was a girl sitting on the other end of the bench, and she gave him a weak smile as he sat down.

"Can't take it in there either, huh?" she asked in a shaky kind of voice that made it clear she had been crying a couple of minutes ago.

Riku laughed softly. "Yeah. It's awful."

"I'm Liz," she said after a moment.

"Riku," Riku answered. Anywhere else he might have thought it was odd that a complete stranger was being so friendly, but he understood. She needed someone, anyone, right now. It didn't really matter who. She was plump and very pretty, with big green eyes and short reddish gold hair. She was wearing a jeans and a homemade halter top that had "people like you are the reason people like me need medication" emblazoned across the front in bright red lettering.

"I'm not from around here," Liz said. "Is this hospital any good?"

Riku wasn't sure how to answer that. What did she mean 'good'? And what exactly classified bad? When they cut the patients up and sold their parts on the black market?

He shook his head. "Sorry, I don't really know. Nobody in my family ever really gets sick."

"That's okay."

"What happened, if you don't mind me asking?"

Liz glanced at her shoes, and then back up at Riku. "Stephanie, my…" She swallowed once. "My girlfriend was in a car accident. She's banged up pretty bad. They don't know if she's gonna make it."

Riku didn't know what to say. 'I'm sorry' was just so cliché, so paltry, so meaningless. How would he be feeling right now, if that had happened to Sora?

He sidled closer to her on the bench, taking her hand and giving it a squeeze. "You're very strong," he whispered.

Liz smiled, tears shining in the flashing lights of a passing ambulance. "That's what I'd like to think."

They sat there in silence for a little while, just watching the cars go by on the road beyond the parking lot. Every so often an emergency vehicle would pull up, stopping at the curb and spitting out a crowd of paramedics. Sometimes they would shout things to each other, working so quickly that the patient was moved from the ambulance to a stretcher in a few seconds. Other times they would pull up and nobody would get out for a moment, and when they did they were quiet, and the stretcher they carried inside would be covered. Riku couldn't understand how anyone could work in such close contact with death. He wouldn't have been able to handle it.

Riku's phone rang, just a moment after the blaring of one of the ambulance's sirens had been silenced. He glanced at it. It was Sora, no doubt wondering where he was.

"Be right there," he told him, not waiting for a response. He stood up.

"I hope everything works out," he said quietly, taking Liz's hand once again. "Tell you're girlfriend hi for me."

"Sure," she answered, smiling.

He ducked back into the noisy E.R, glancing around for Sora. He tracked him down over by the swinging door to the back hallway. He looked exauhsted.

"Roxas is gonna be fine," he said before Riku could open his mouth. "He hasn't woken up yet but the doctor said she doesn't expect him to until tomorrow morning."

"Where's Axel?" Riku asked.

"Sleeping on the chair in Roxas' room. Visitor hours are over and everything but he's refusing to budge. So the doctor's letting him stay."

"You want to just stay at my house tonight?" Riku asked, attempting to sound as offhand as possible.

Sora smiled tiredly. "Sure."

On the drive back home Riku slid him a glance when they'd stopped for a red light. "Are you awake enough to tell me about Roxas?"

Sora nodded slowly, rubbing his eyes with his fists and trying to stifle a giant yawn. "He's my cousin."

"Got that part."

"I know, shut up," Sora needled, elbowing him lightly. "I was just recapping."

"Mm hmm," Riku hummed, easing on the gas and turning toward the coast.

"Yeah, well anyway, Roxas' parents were both killed in that big derailing of the subway a year and a half ago."

"I remember hearing about that. Fuck."

"Yeah. My mom is Roxas' dad's sister, so he came to live with us." Sora stared out the window as he spoke, eyes reflecting the street lights. "He was pretty fucked up by it. He barely talked to anyone and he skipped school all the time. He didn't like my dad 'cause my he would always get on us about being gay."

"Really?" Riku asked. He'd been under the impression that Sora's parents were both fine with his sexuality.

Sora shrugged. "It wasn't like, hatred, or anything, just…intense disapproval. He's kind of got over himself, though," Sora added, glancing at his boyfriend. "Anyway, sometime about last November, Roxas disappeared. He never came home from work one night."

He swallowed. Riku could tell Sora was having a bit of trouble talking about this. He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. "Sorry. It's just…it still feels kind of unreal, you know? Finding him here?"

"I understand," Riku said softly, running his hands through Sora's spiky hair without taking his eyes off the road.

"My parents thought he'd been kidnapped at first, but then I found the note in his room. It was addressed to me, not them, and it said not to worry about him and that he'd be fine."

"Did your parents call the police?"

"Yeah, a'course. We looked for him for a long time, but there was nothing. Then, on Christmas Day, I got a call from him. It was from a pay phone so I had no idea where he was—wasn't even sure if he was in the country. He told me he'd found a place to stay and that he was alive and not to worry about him and all that bullshit. I got really angry and yelled at him and he hung up on me."

"Did you hear from him at all after that?"

Sora shook his head. "No. It didn't make any sense. I would stay up late at night wondering what the fuck had been so awful about living with us." His eyes had widened and it looked like he was about to burst into tears. "What if it was something I did? What if I was the one who chased him away?" His bottom lip trembled, and Riku was suddenly seriously pissed he was driving, as he was filled with the overwhelming desire to tackle Sora and ravage him.

"Don't be an idiot," he said curtly. "It's not your fault and you know it."

There was silence for a few moments, as they turned onto Ocean Blvd.

"Sorry."

Riku sighed, shaking his head. "No, I shouldn't have snapped at you. I'm grumpy, baby, it's really late."

"Almost two," Sora confirmed, glancing at the luminous clock on the dashboard. "You're parents won't mind me staying over, will they?"

The silver-haired boy shrugged. "There's no way they would find out, unless…" He grinned slyly. "Unless we made a hell of a lot of noise."

Sora giggled. "I thought you said you were tired."

"I need to watch what I say with you, don't I?" Riku laughed, gazing at the brunette fondly as he pulled into his long paved drive.

"Not unless you want to get in my pants," Sora answered cheerfully.

They moved through the mansion quickly and quietly. Sora was vaguely reminded of the night he'd met Riku, when wind and rain had lashed the windows and he'd crept in like a thief in the dark.

_What a bizarre way to meet a future boyfriend…_he thought, grinning to himself.

It was past two o'clock when they finally crawled into bed in Riku's cool, dark room. The quiet whirr of the overhead fan was oddly soothing, and Sora expected to fall asleep immediately, but he couldn't get his mind to shut down. So much had happened in the last couple of hours he was surprised he hadn't gone completely insane.

After he'd turned over for about the thirtieth time in five minutes, he felt Riku's hand on his shoulder.

"Baby, you need to relax a little. There's nothing more you can do for Roxas right now. Just calm down."

Sora felt kind of bad. He knew Riku had work tomorrow, and there was no way he would be able to get to sleep with one hundred and twenty five pounds of teenage boy tossing and turning beside him.

"I'm sorry, Riku. I just…can't sleep. I'm all worked up, I can't…"

He trailed off as he felt warm lips descend on his neck. He stiffened automatically, but Riku's fingers began to knead the twisted muscles of his shoulders and upper back. He moaned lightly—it felt so good.

"Fuck, you're tense," the silver haired boy commented, propping himself up on an elbow to reach lower down Sora's back. His eyes were glowing slightly in the darkness and Sora's stomach swooped. Riku was practically lying on top of him.

"Nice?" he asked, smiling and leaning in to trail kisses up his jaw, his tongue flicking out to lap at the pressure point under his ear. Sora gasped and Riku chuckled, breath warm on his skin. He left off messaging Sora's back and slithered down to his chest, licking a wet trail along his collar bone. The brunette's body jerked as Riku's lips closed over a nipple. He sucked lightly and shivers lanced through Sora's body, making him writhe. Before he knew what was happening, Riku's hand had slid down under his boxers and grasped his dick.

"Riku!" he hissed, trying to seem affronted but only succeeding in sounding turned on.

"Shhh…it'll help you relax."

Sora whimpered as Riku began to stroke. He was already rock hard from the kisses and licks, and he felt every touch like fire through his veins. He gasped again as teeth nipped at his nipples, the hand giving his shaft a little squeeze.

"Just like that?" Riku asked, the speed of his strokes increasing and his grip tightening. Sora nodded but he wasn't sure if Riku had seen it. He didn't really care either way.

He began to move his hips, following the motions of the hand, little moans issuing from the corner of his mouth as much as he tried to keep quiet. It felt so good—not at all dirty like it had that first time in the hall. Riku's eyes were burning with that internal flame, blazing with something, something…

He squeezed his cock again, one finger creeping out to rub at the sensitive head. Sora moaned and jerked his hips, burying his face into Riku's sweaty neck.

"Riku…"

"Shhhh…" the silver haired boy crooned. He dug a thumbnail into the little slit, and Sora gasped. A fiery, pleasant ache was building up in his lower stomach. His hips jerked last time, before his orgasm burst through him, sending him into shivering ecstasy. He clung to Riku, riding the feeling out with his eyes glued shut.

The older boy chuckled lightly, reaching for the box of tissues on his night table. "I'm so glad I found you, Sora," he muttered in his ear.

* * *

Leon woke to the sweet smell of coffee. He groaned, wiping his eyes blearily and sitting up. For a moment, the view of the empty parking lot made no sense. Where the hell was he and why was he so goddamn stiff? It drifted to him in portions. _Hospital…Cloud…diner…Cloud…beer…Cloud…couch…_

"Oh yeah," he muttered, standing up slowly and stretching. He stood there in the center of the living room, scratching his balls thoughtfully.

"Morning."

Leon yanked his hand away from his crotch like it was on fire. He turned around, feeling like a total dumbass. Cloud was leaning against the wall, arms crossed, rather amused smile on his face. He looked a lot better than he had the night before.

"Coffee?" Leon grunted, his mind currently occupied with one thing.

Cloud's grin widened and he motioned him into the kitchen. Leon rejoiced as he saw the pot, pouring himself a mug and drinking it black. He heard Cloud make a disgusted noise behind him.

"I don't see how you can drink that shit like that," he commented, walking over the refrigerator and pulling it open. Leon opened his mouth to tell Cloud not to bother, that they were fresh out of everything remotely edible, but before he could vocalize the blonde had begun pulling things out. A carton of milk, a dozen eggs, a block of white cheese, and a stick of butter.

"You like scrambled eggs?"

"Yeah, sure," Leon said blankly. "But where…?"

Cloud stood back up. "Seriously, Leon. There's a market down the street from your apartment. It took me about five minutes to get all this stuff."

Leon shrugged a shoulder. "Guess I'm just lazy."

"There's rehearsal today, isn't there?" Cloud asked as he set a frying pan on the stove, clicking on the gas.

"Yeah," Leon said, taking another gulp of life-affirming coffee. "You don't have to go if you don't feel up to it."

Cloud gave him a funny glance over his shoulder. "Why? There's nothing wrong with me, Leon. I'm going. I need to get those goddamn mics to stop blanking out every other second."

"Alright. We have to be there in about an hour." He watched as Cloud cracked half a dozen eggs into a bowl, adding milk and little diced blocks of cheese. "You're surprisingly…domestic."

It was the blonde's turn to shrug. "I'm home a lot more than Aeris. She's got a steady office job and I just work whenever I can find a show. I end up doing a lot of the household shit."

Cloud hid it well, but Leon could see the slight tightening of his jaw when he mentioned Aeris. Which reminded him of something.

"She called last night," he said levelly.

The fork Cloud was using to beat the eggs clanged against the edge of the bowl, slipping from his hands and clattering down on the counter.

"Really?" he asked. "What did you say?"

Leon crossed his arms. "Basically, I told her to go to hell."

Cloud looked at him, gorgeous blue eyes wide with dismay. "What?"

"She was feeding me bullshit, Cloud. Going on about you needing help. She was angry because I checked you out of the hospital." He snorted. "I don't understand how you can put up with all that garbage. Women are awful."

"Yeah?" Cloud had gone back to beating the eggs and his tone was deceptively light. "And guys are so much better?"

Leon allowed himself a slight smirk. "Definitely."

"Why?" Cloud asked, pouring the eggs into the hot frying pan. He was attempting to keep it light, but it was obvious he was interested.

"Well, for one thing, they fuck better."

Cloud picked up a spatula. "I wouldn't know."

"Maybe you should give it a try," the brunette said quietly. "But I'm serious. Women always complain that all we want is sex. Well, with two guys…"

Cloud laughed. "You both just want the same thing."

"Exactly."

* * *

"Excuse me."

"Yeah, just a minute," Cloud called down distractedly. When you're shoulders deep in a tangle of electrical wiring mounted thirty feet above the stage, you're not usually open for chatter. He braced one foot on the metal grating of the catwalk, grunting as he gave the pliers one final wrench. Disentangling himself, he wiped the sweat from his forehead. It was disgustingly hot up here, despite the fact he'd turned off most of the lights before he'd set to work.

He draped his shirt over his shoulders (he'd stripped it off a few minutes into the task) and grabbed the thick brown rope that dangled from the rafters. He shimmied down, feet hitting the stage with a thud.

"Alright, now how can I help…?" He trailed off to silence.

Standing beside him, nearly center stage, was one of the most stunning people Cloud had ever seen. He was tall, maybe half a foot taller than Cloud (which wasn't really saying too much) and his long silver hair reached nearly to his waist. He was dressed in a black button-down shirt open to his solar-plexus, and a pair of pale-washed and very expensive-looking jeans.

"My, my," he said with a small smile. "Aren't you sweaty?"

Cloud blushed faintly. He felt like a mess beside this man, who looked like any sweat that dared to settle on his skin would promptly be scolded and sent on its way.

"Can I help you with something?" Cloud asked again, rather curtly. He was feeling oddly flustered and he didn't know why, and it was making him testy.

"Yes," the man said slowly, though his attention was clearly focused elsewhere. His eyes, a brilliant bottle-green, were roving shamelessly over Cloud's naked torso. His lips curled into a startlingly predatory grin, before his gaze flicked back to the blonde's face. "Yes," he repeated. "I wanted to speak to the director—a certain Squall Leonhart?" His voice was rich and sensual, and would no doubt make any woman melt.

"Mr. Leonhart isn't here right now," Cloud said shakily. In contrast, his voice sounded high and nervous. "He's seeing a man about…uh, something about cucumber sandwiches."

He felt like an idiot for repeating it, but to his surprise the man laughed, a deep, penetrating chuckle.

"Yes, of course. 'The Importance of Being Earnest'. Algernon has a plate of cucumber sandwiches ready for his aunt and cousin when they arrive."

Cloud gave him a blank look.

He laughed again. "Surely you've read the play you're working on?"

Cloud shrugged, feeling more exposed than ever. "I haven't really had much free time lately."

What with being packed off to the mental ward and all.

"Of course. Well, it's wonderful to make your acquaintance, Mr….?"

"Strife," Cloud said, accepting the proffered hand. "Cloud Strife."

"Cloud," the man repeated thoughtfully. Slipping his hand into his pocket he offered Cloud a business card.

The blonde glanced at it. "Sephiroth," he read aloud. "Artistic and emotive photographer." He looked up. "Cool."

Sephiroth smiled at him again, raising a hand to brush back a stray piece of hair. His face was all angles; a sharp chin and prominent cheekbones, though it made him look aristocratic rather than bony.

"Mention to Mr. Leonhart that I came by, would you?" he asked. Cloud nodded and Sephiroth turned to leave.

"Out of curiosity, before I go…" Sephiroth's eyes flicked back down Cloud's body. "Have you ever done any modeling?"

Cloud's mouth worked for a moment while his brain tried to process the question. "No," he finally managed to get out.

"Well, give me a call sometime. I'd love to use you for my next shoot. You have an exquisite body, Mr. Strife."

Cloud sure as hell had no way to respond to that, so he just stood there as Sephiroth crossed the stage and let himself out through the double doors.

* * *

Yuffie was nearly bouncing off the walls.

An 87! An eighty-fucking-seven percent! On a history test! She hadn't even had to cheat! She'd just sat down, the conversation she'd had with Vincent the night before about the Industrial Revolution swirling around in her brain, and…everything had just come. She'd answered almost all of the multiple choice questions correctly, though the essay had still given her a shitload of trouble. Reading the directions and question always took a long time, and organizing took even longer. And even after that, her spelling was absolutely atrocious.

As she climbed the stairs to Vincent's apartment, her mind went back to what he'd said after their last tutoring session.

_Have you ever considered you might have dyslexia?_

Dyslexia. Sounded like an STD. Yuffie had looked it up on the internet, and the more she read on it the more she had started to think he could be right. It was a condition in the brain that made letters and words all jumbled when you looked at them. Turned them backwards and shit. Might explain why she hated to read, and why it had always been so difficult for her.

_Maybe I'm not as stupid as I thought, _she mused, raising a hand and knocking on Vincent's door. There was no answer, so she knocked again, louder. After another minute or two she tried the knob, surprised to find it unlocked.

_What kind of dumbass would leave their door open in a building like this_? she wondered, glancing around for homicidal maniacs out of habit.

She was only two steps into the living room, when she froze.

The place had been ransacked.

The couch cushions were slashed and torn, spilling their feather entrails out onto the carpet. The two little cactus plants kept on the mantel had been ripped out of their pots and flung against the wall. Worst of all, in Yuffie's opinion, "The Persistence of Memory" had been decimated, leaving nothing but scraps. She took a step forward and something cracked under her tennis shoes. Fragments of glass littered the floor, thousands of them, and for a moment Yuffie puzzled at what they could be, until she remembered the glass coffee table. It's metal legs had been kicked into the corner, and the surface was now nothing more than tiny pieces.

"Fuck," she breathed, a hand moving up to cover her mouth as she tried to keep calm. "Vincent! Vincent, where the fuck are you?"

Yuffie could scarcely hear anything over the sound of her own heart pounding in her ears, but she thought she caught the tail end of a tiny moan.

Her feet suddenly developed a mind of their own. She all but flew across the remains of the living room, skidding into the kitchen. There was nothing there, nothing out of place. It was a jarring comparison. Turning around, she tried the last door in the apartment, the one she'd through before.

It was dim, dark blackout curtains covering the wide window. The room was fairly sparse, dominated by a big bed with sheets and blankets partially ripped away. There was a shape curled up in the center, body contorted into what for a moment looked like intense ecstasy, but when Yuffie inched closer she saw the blood speckling the sheets. She shrieked, fear twisting her stomach before she realized that the man on the bed wasn't Vincent. His hair was almost the same color, but his face was older, gaunter. His eyes, glazed and open, weren't red.

But he was unmistakably dead.

"Oh fuck," Yuffie groaned. She could feel the bile burning at the back of her throat.

Another little gasp sounded from somewhere to her right, and she became aware of the sound of running water. Yuffie picked her way through the blood on the carpet over to the bathroom door, pushing it back.

The sight before her was one that would stay with her for the rest of her life.

The shower curtain had been torn down, revealing a crimson stained bathtub. And Vincent. He was naked, hair plastered to his sickeningly pale face by the constant stream of water pouring from the shower head. The white expanse of his muscled body was decorated with red, jagged slashes that zigzagged over his abdomen. His body was quaking and shivering, and his chest rose and fell at an alarming rate, accompanied with harsh breaths that were so quick and shallow it was frightening. He appeared to be taking in almost as much water as air.

Yuffie was barely able to stifle her sobs as she threw herself across the tiny room and turned off water. It was icy cold. Vincent shuddered, coughing up bloody liquid. His eyelids fluttered and Yuffie heard a tiny click echo through the room.

There was a gun clutched in Vincent's hand, a gun that was pointed straight at her.

Panic flowed over her like a waterfall. "Vincent, it's me!" she sobbed. "It's Yuffie! I'm gonna help you, just calm down!"

A little flash of recognition showed in the man's eyes, and they focused a little.

"Yuffie…" he managed to choke out, and the emotion in that one word sent chills spiraling down her spine. It was like he was saying goodbye.

"Vincent! Listen to me, you bastard! Don't you dare die! Just let me call the fucking hospital!"

She fumbled through her pockets for her phone, finding it at last and dialing three numbers with numb, clumsy fingers. It only rang once before an operator picked up.

"911, what is your emergency?"

"There's a guy, he's bleeding, he's…" Yuffie took a deep breath, forcing herself to focus. "My friend—I came into his house, and he's in the bathtub. There's all these…slashes over his chest and I think he's really cold."

"Is there anyone else there?"

Yuffie's eyes flicked back to the bedroom. "There's a man…on the bed, but I think…I don't know…he's dead."

"Alright. What's the address?"

Yuffie spent a few precious seconds trying to remember. "I'm not sure, it's a big apartment building on the corner of Market and Third, third floor, apartment 308—."

"That's fine," the operator said. "I'll send an emergency team, they'll be there in four minutes. Try to stay calm and don't move your friend at all."

She hung up. Yuffie hit end on her phone and took a breath, slipping it back into her pocket and turning slowly to Vincent. His scarlet eyes were unfocused and he seemed to be having even more trouble breathing. He was wheezing, little coughs racking his body. The gun had dropped from his clutching fingers. He was limp with pain and exhaustion.

_Shit, all the water…he's fucking drowning! _

She dropped to her knees beside the tub. What should she do? The operator had said not to move him at all, that it would make him worse, but if there was a shitload of water in his lungs…

_What should she do?_

Yuffie really didn't want to touch him, didn't want to feel that cold, shaking body. She wanted to crawl into a corner and wait for the paramedics, wait for the people who knew what they were doing, shunt the responsibility on someone else's shoulders…

But he was _drowning. _

That was it. She tossed her jacket on the floor and reached tentatively forward, touching Vincent's shoulders. His eyes flickered but they didn' focus. Slowly, painfully, she lifted him into a sitting position, trying to ignore the way the slices on his stomach oozed blood. As soon as he was vertical, his body jerked, convulsing and expelling the water from his lungs. There was a hell of a lot of it, a lot more than Yuffie would have thought could be in there without him completely passing out.

Did he have hidden gills or something?

Not knowing what else to do, she sat there, holding him up until she heard the sound of the paramedics clattering in through the front door. Vincent managed to raise his head a bit, and she could see the recognition flash through his eyes. His lips moved, but no sound came out.

The paramedics came into the bathroom, bearing respirators and a stretcher. One of them cursed loudly when he saw the dead man on the bed, but all three of them went methodically about their work, checking Vincent's pulse, fitting him with an oxygen mask, and lifting him gently onto the stretcher. One of them, a woman with short blonde hair, knelt down beside Yuffie.

"What's your name, honey?"

Yuffie blinked. "Yuffie Kisaragi," she answered hoarsely.

"Alright, Yuffie. What's your friend's name."

"Vincent Valentine."

"Are you related to Mr. Valentine?"

Yuffie shook her head.

"Do you live here?"

She shook her head again.

"Then I'm going to have to ask you to leave. This is a crime scene. It needs to remain undisturbed."

She nodded dumbly, climbing shakily to her feet. "Is he gonna live?" she asked quietly.

The blonde paramedic shook her head. "I don't know. We won't be able to tell until we get him to the hospital. Come in a few hours from now, and we'll know."

Yuffie nodded once again, knowing without a doubt those would be the longest hours of her life.

* * *

When Sora woke up Sunday morning Riku was already gone. There was a note beside the bed, scribbled quickly and almost illegibly.

_Hey babe, _

_Had to run. Rehearsal starts at ten and Leon, my director, will eat me for breakfast if I don't show. Lunch break is at two-thirty. Why don't you swing by the theatre and we'll get something? Feel free to help yourself from anything in the kitchen. Don't worry—my parents will be gone by the time you wake up. _

_Love ya. _

_--Riku _

He glanced at the clock beside the bed. Eleven-twenty five. Perfect, he had some time to visit Roxas before he had to meet Riku.

He dressed quickly (in the same thing he'd worn the day before, unfortunately) and left the house, striking out toward the hospital. It was an exceptionally nice day; the sky was a pure, periwinkle blue and the temperature had dropped from yesterday, making it slightly more bearable.

He asked the mustached woman (at least, he was pretty sure it was a woman) behind the security desk in the hospital for Roxas' room. Once he obtained said information, he detoured into the café for a fairly awful cup of coffee, before heading upstairs to visit his cousin.

Room 203 was just beside the elevator. He knocked once before letting himself inside.

Everything inside was very white and very clean-looking. It smelled like bleach and turpentine, and the shade drawn over the window cast everything in a rather sickly glow. In the center of the bed was a small bed and a drip I.V. A shock of blonde hair stuck up from the head of the bed.

"Hey, Rox," Sora muttered, sinking into the only unoccupied chair in the room.

Roxas rolled over, opening a dark blue eye that was a mirror of Sora's own.

"Hey, Sora. Welcome to my villa. Enjoy your stay."

Sora chuckled. "Glad to see you still have a sense of humor."

"Yeah, that hasn't been sucked out yet."

Sora smiled sadly. Roxas looked fine, tired but fine. Now that he was here, he was struggling with what to say. He hadn't seen his cousin for a year and a half. Who the hell knew if they even had anything in common anymore? Well, he knew at least one thing.

"So…you got a boyfriend." They both glanced over to the padded bench under the window, the one Axel was currently sprawled over, one pale hand dangling down to the floor. His hair was like a shock to the senses, bright and brilliant against the drab whites and grays of the hospital room.

"Yeah," Roxas said, a little grin stealing over his face. "I guess I do."

The grin was infectious. This was the Roxas Sora remembered. A little reserved, a little melancholy, but still content. The caged, vicious animal that had run from him the night before was gone, and he had his family back.

"What happened, Roxas?" he asked after a moment. "Why'd you take off like that?"

Roxas didn't answer right away, but he didn't actively avoid the question either. His eyes had settled on Axel's sleeping form, as if the sight gave him comfort. No matter what he said, no matter what happened, Axel would be there. Everything would be okay.

"I lost it for a little while…but…I think I'm finally beginning it back." He smiled as Axel twitched a bit in his sleep, muttering something incoherent. "I think I'm okay."

* * *

And that's the end of chapter 12!!!! Christ, they sure spend a lot of time in goddamn hospitals, don't they? Everyone is always falling ill! Oh well. Vincent and Yuffie were in this one, everyone! Though Vincent was bleeding in the bathtub! Anyone who can guess who that dead guy on the bed was gets a cookie!

And Sephiroth! Sephiroth has entered! At first I was going to make him a porn star (cause, come on, look at him) but I settled on photographer to go along with the plot.

Please review guys!

Till next time, then.


	13. Beyond the Cheap, Colored Lights

Disclaimer: Doesn't belong to me. If it did, I'd stand up and do the Macarena right now. But no, it is not meant to be. So no Macarena.

Oh my god, chapter thirteen! It's been a whole month, hasn't it! hides in a hole to escape angry readers I'm sorry! I graduated from high school and went on a million vacations! And had no inspiration! And then the lovely and talented Uzumaki-sama broached the subject of a RikuxSora revival. She talked about how the pairing had died off a little and needed to be brought back, and I decided to rise to the occasion!

And here, finally, later in this chapter we have a scene I'm sure many of you have been waiting for. Sex? What makes you think that? ;)

Oh, and just a note. There's a reason I fucked with Rinoa's name. You'll know what I men if you've played FF8, and if you don't, than just don't worry about it.

Without further ado…

Chapter 13

Beyond the Cheap, Colored Lights

* * *

"Alright, Blondie, I got some meds for—Oh, hello."

A woman in a starched white lab coat entered the dim hospital room, pencils behind her ears and a clipboard tucked under her arm. She was dark haired and pretty, wearing big silver earrings that jingled when she moved.

"Hi," Sora said, standing up. "I'm Sora. Roxas' cousin."

The woman raised a slender eyebrow. "Oh?" She turned a disapproving look to Roxas. "Hey, Blondie, I thought you said you didn't have any relatives."

Roxas looked peeved. "Must have slipped my mind."

"Uh huh," the woman intoned. She offered her hand to Sora. "I'm Dr. Almasy, but you can just call me Rinoa."

"Nice to meet you," Sora said, shaking her hand and giving Roxas, who was mouthing the words 'she's insane', a funny look.

"I know you're doing something back there, Roxie," she beamed. "I have eyes in all sorts of interesting places." She brandished the clipboard. "I've also got your test results right here, which I will not hesitate to chuck out the window if you continue to be a smartass."

"Could I leave then?" Roxas asked hopefully, perking up.

"No, we'll just have to stick tubes down your throat and up your butt all over again."

Sora glanced at Roxas. "They stuck tubes up your butt?"

The blonde didn't answer, just collapsed back onto his pillows and pulled the blankets up over his head.

Sora turned his questioning gaze to Rinoa. "Did you really stick tubes up his butt?"

Rinoa grinned and winked. "That's a professional secret." Her gaze fell on the boy stretched out on the bench. "Good god, is it still here?"

In response Axel gave a long, gurgling snore.

"Time to wake up, loverboy," Rinoa yelled in his ear, whacking him over the head with the clipboard.

Axel jerked awake, sitting up so fast he hit his already abused cranium against the window. "Fucking hell!" he bellowed. "What the fuck kind of psycho woman are you?"

"Oh, I'm the worst kind," Rinoa shot back. "I'm a psycho woman with a stethoscope."

"Crazy bitch," Axel muttered, rubbing the back of his head. "I think you gave me a concussion."

Rinoa reached into the pocket of her coat. "Well…if you want I could have them wheel you in a bed and you can share a room with your boyfriend." She drew forth a little bottle of pills, placing them on Roxas' bedside table. "It'll be cute."

"We'll pass," Roxas said, emerging once again from the sea of grey regulation blankets.

Axel was still furiously rubbing his head, but his attention had focused on his boyfriend. "How you feelin', baby?"

Roxas shrugged as best as he could while lying down. "I'm alright."

Axel sat down on the foot of his bed, taking Roxas' hand and kissing it. For someone who had only just come out of the closet, Sora thought he was awfully open about it. When he'd finally admitted he was gay he'd been nervous around his boyfriends for months, and he still wasn't very comfortable with showing affection in public.

_Of course, dating Riku and all, I'm probably not gonna have much of a choice. _

"As romantic as this all is," Dr. Almasy said, wiping away an imaginary tear, "I'd like to tell Roxas what's wrong with him."

Sora felt a flash of nervousness fly through him. What if Roxas had something serious? Something like cancer? He'd just found him, he didn't want to lose him again.

"You're anemic, sweetie, do you know what that means?"

Roxas was shaking his head, but Sora thought he had a pretty good idea.

"Isn't that when your blood's really thin?" he asked.

Dr. Almasy looked mildly impressed. "Yes. It is a condition characterized by a lack of red blood cells in the body." Sora noticed that the moment she began to discuss her work, all goofiness left Rinoa's manner. "It results is something called hypoxia, which means the cells have a more difficult time transferring oxygen."

"Is it common?" Axel asked. His brow was furrowed with what wasn't exactly worry, but something close to it.

"It's the most common blood disease in the world, and it usually doesn't make people faint That came from a lack of general nutrition. Of course, the anemia didn't help at all." She gave Roxas a glare, tapping her red manicured nails on her clipboard. "Tell me, Blondie. Do you eat a lot of crap?"

Roxas shrugged. He wasn't looking at the doctor. His eyes had settled on a point on he wall a few feet to her left. "I eat what I can get," he said after a moment or two.

Sora glanced over at Axel. The redhead was staring down at his hands, eyes still puffy with sleep. He wondered what he must be thinking. Was he blaming himself, maybe, for the fact Roxas didn't get enough sustenance to keep himself on his feet? Was he thinking he should have dumped Tifa earlier and come to his boyfriend's side?

Rinoa was making a couple of notes on her clipboard. "You're going to need to start eating better, Blondie. Red meat, green, leafy vegetables. Anything with iron in it. Vitamin K can be a good thing too." She finished writing something with a flourish and looked back up. "I know you don't want to tell me about your home life, Roxas, or lack thereof, but I'm legally obligated to make sure minors have someone to take care of them. I'm going to have to get Social Serv—."

"I'll take care of him." Axel still hadn't looked up. There was a hard set to his jaw, like he had a lump in his throat that just wouldn't go away. "Don't send him to any fucking foster care. I'm nineteen, and I can take care of him."

Sora expected Rinoa to cuff him around the head, tell him he was an idiot, and then call the number for Social Services. Instead, she folded her arms and looked at him, brow furrowed in concentration, as if she was trying to see something lurking below the surface.

"I'll see what I can do for you," she said at last.

* * *

"Charming day it has been, Miss Fairfax," Riku said. He wiped his hands nervously on his pants, digging one into his pocket to toy with his big gold watch.

Yuna laughed airily. "Pray, don't talk to me about the weather, Mr. Worthing." She put a light hand on his shoulder. "Whenever anyone talks to me about the weather, I feel quite certain that they mean something else. And that makes me so nervous."

"Well, I do mean something else."

Yuna smiled with satisfaction, flipping her short brown hair jauntily. "I thought so. In fact, I am never wrong."

"Too modern, Yuna." Leon's impatient drawl stopped them mid-scene. Riku rolled his eyes. They couldn't even get four lines into the damn thing.

"What?" Yuna asked daintily, looking confused.

Leon was sitting four rows into the audience, script in one hand, arms crossed, and feet up. He looked for all the world like he was lounging on the beach. Except for the jeans and the long-sleeved shirt. Riku tried and failed to imagine Leon in a swimsuit. It would be a beautiful thing, but he couldn't ever see it happening.

"Don't flip your hair," the brunette said, putting his feet down and leaning forward. "Gwendolen wouldn't do that, it's too modern of a motion. Plus, it's fucking ditzy."

Yuna frowned. Riku knew for a fact the hair-flip was a habit she used in normal conversation. He nudged her, smirking.

"Heh. He called you a ditz."

"And you, Riku." Their director had his eyebrows raised, as if daring the silver-haired boy to make fun of his costar. "You look like you're about to fall asleep. The love of your life is flirting with you, look a little interested." Riku started to say something, but Leon held up a hand. "I don't care if vagina doesn't do anything for you, you're an actor, it's what I hired you for. Fucking fake it. If Oscar Wilde could write about it, you can play it."

"Actually, I was going to say that it's time for our lunch break, but I'm just so glad you had to make me think about Yuna's vagina. Thanks for the nightmares." Yuna smacked him upside the head.

Leon glanced at his watch and grunted. "Fine, you've got forty-five minutes. Don't be late again, Riku, or I'll kick you the hell out of my production."

"He's grumpy today," Yuna commented when they were backstage and safely out of earshot.

"He's always grumpy," Riku answered blandly, running his fingers through his hair unnecessarily.

"Why are you primping?" Yuna asked suspiciously, hands on her hips. "You always primp when you're nervous."

"Nervous, me?" Riku said silkily, flipping on the light in the dressing room and pulling out an eye-pencil. "I don't get nervous."

Yuna made a disbelieving sound, watching as Riku touched up the lining of kohl around his eyes. It made them look even bigger, bringing the green out like a beacon.

"You've got a date, don't you?" she accused. "Who's the new boy-toy?"

Riku barely reacted—it was just the faintest tensing of his jaw. "This one isn't a toy," he said quietly. He checked his appearance in the mirror one last time, before turning and leaving the dressing room without another word.

Sora was waiting for him in the little café the theatre shared its building with. It was owned by the same person, but luckily not run by the same manager, as Leon didn't know jack shit about customer service. Or much human interaction of any kind.

It was small and air-conditioned, cold air rushing out onto the street whenever anyone opened the front door with the wind chime hanging over it—a tiny ceramic likeness of a white rose. A coffee bar dominated most of the space inside; there were only a few tables, pushed against the far wall. Colorful mugs were on display behind the counter, and the menu was scribbled on a blackboard in several different hands. The coffee here was cheap, but very good.

The chime rang out cheerily and Sora looked up, his face breaking into a huge grin. Riku looked good today, dressed in a dark blue tank top and pair of tight black jeans despite the heat. He was wearing eyeliner, quite a bit of it, but his features could pull it off without looking freaky and Emo.

"Hey, baby," he said, his customary greeting, kissing Sora on the top of his spiky head. "Sorry I had to take off this morning."

"It's okay," Sora said, spinning around on his stool. Riku chuckled, straddling the stool next to him. The girl behind the counter took their order, making an attempt to flirt with both of them. When she finally finished and went to go make the coffees, Sora giggled softly.

"Did she not see you kiss me when you walked in?"

Riku grinned. "Most girls can smell a gay boy a mile away, but they still always think they can dazzle us with their charms." He shook his head. "Either that, or we're just so hot she can't think straight."

"I like the second one better," Sora muttered.

"As do I," Riku agreed. "How's your cousin?"

Sora blinked at the sudden change of subject. "He's okay. The doctor was kinda crazy, but she knew her stuff, I guess."

"What was wrong with him?"

"He's anemic," Sora answered, very proud of the fact he could remember the word and pronounce it correctly.

Riku nodded. "That makes a lot of sense. Probably why he's so pale. I have an American uncle who's anemic. It's not a big deal."

"It is if you can't afford to buy healthy food," Sora said, voice unusually sober.

"That's true. But can't Axel—?"

"Axel got kicked out, remember?"

"That's right," Riku said, scratching the back of his neck. "So neither of them have a place to stay." He slapped his hand down on the counter. "That reminds me. I've seen Roxas before."

Sora frowned. "Really? Where?"

"At a sandwich place a couple of blocks over. He was yelling at one of the employees because the price for soup had been raised."

Sora cracked a grin. "Sounds like Roxas. He didn't…get in trouble, did he?"

Riku shook his head. He didn't mention to Sora that he'd been the one to cover the rest of the meal. That was something his boyfriend, so happy at finding his lost cousin, didn't need to know.

The waitress came back, setting down their coffee and the chocolate muffin Riku had ordered. It wasn't the most balanced lunch.

Sora added sugar and a rather liberal amount of cream to his coffee, before turning to Riku with a rather guilty smile. "They're not the only ones who don't have anywhere to stay."

Rikku swallowed a gooey and delicious bite of muffin. He swallowed thickly. "Say what?"

Sora sipped at his coffee. "Kairi called my this morning. Her parents are coming home in three days—and they don't know I'm there."

Riku coughed, trying to swallow down another bite of muffin. "You mean you're leaving?"

"No! No, I'm not leaving," Sora assured him. "I mean, my flight isn't even until August. But I'm going to need a place to stay."

"You can stay with me," Riku said without hesitation.

The brunette shook his head until his spikes jiggled back and forth. "No, Riku. I don't want you to get in trouble with your parents. I mean, what if they walked in on us fucking?"

Riku's face suddenly took on a whole new expression. "Fucking, huh? You planning on seducing me, or something?"

Sora smiled serenely. "Maybe."

* * *

"This is…garlicy," Leon commented, chewing his pasta gingerly.

"Is it too strong?" Cloud took a bite off his own plate. "Doesn't taste like it to me."

"Well, obviously you've got taste buds of steel.

"Yeah? Maybe you're just a pussy."

Leon raised an eyebrow. "You don't want to start with me, man. That's my bed you're sleeping in." He felt the words drip from the tip of his tongue a moment before he realized what they'd sound like. The pronouncement was greeted by several moments of awkward silence, in which Cloud became very interested in his green beans.

Leon watched him, expecting him to go into lockdown, 'don't talk to me' mode, but instead, the blonde just grinned. It was like Leon had told a joke. Which, he had.

"You wouldn't throw me out, now, would you?" Cloud asked, putting a little sulk into his words.

_Yeah, that's it, Cloud! _Leon thought. _Be spunky. It's ridiculously sexy. _

"No, I wouldn't throw you out. I might toss you into the mental ward, or something like that…"

Cloud snorted, sitting forward on his chair to work something out of his back pocket. He set a little white rectangle on the tabletop, sliding it across the table to Leon.

"Someone came by while you were out hunting cucumber sandwiches."

The brunette picked up the card, and promptly choked. He dropped it back on the table with disgust.

"Sephiroth," he snorted, taking another bite of pasta and wincing. 'Not strong' his ass. There was enough bite to this stuff to take out a baby elephant. "That son of a bitch has been trying to buy out the theatre for a studio space for the last four years."

"Wait a minute," Cloud said. "You own the theatre?"

"I wish. No, I don't, but I'm friends with the guy who does." Leon crumpled the business card in his hand, slapping it down on the tabletop.

"Hey!" Cloud protested. "That's mine, don't fuck it up."

It was illogical, Leon knew, to be feeling so much enraged jealousy for a man who wasn't even his boyfriend, but he didn't really give a flying shit. He knew Sephiroth, knew his reputation and exactly what had gone through his head when he'd laid eyes on Strife.

"He offered you a job, didn't he?" Leon accused.

Cloud sat up a little straighter, squaring his shoulders as if he was getting ready for a fight. Maybe he was.

"Yeah, he did. He said I'd be good for one of his shoots." Cloud's cheeks pinked a bit as he said it, but he didn't back down, didn't cower into himself and try to dissapear, like he had been doing all yesterday.

_Well, what'ya know, _Leon thought, _Not quite whipped after all. Too bad the one thing he stand up for himself about could get him raped. _

"Cloud, do you even know what kind of photographer Sephiroth is?"

The blonde visibly deflated just a little bit. He took another resolute bite of his pasta. Leon had lost his appetite, and not from the monstrous helping of garlic, though that had certainly been a factor.

"He didn't mention it," Cloud said to his plate, refusing to look Leon in the eyes.

"And you didn't think to ask?"

Cloud's jaw tightened. "I've never met a photographer before, Leon. I don't exactly have a cue card of pertinent questions prepared."

Leon almost laughed. Almost. Standing up, he nudged open the refrigerator with the toe of his boot. "You want a beer?" he asked. Cloud shook his head. He grabbed one for himself, kicking the door shut. He sat back down and popped the cap. "Cloud, Sephiroth takes photographs of what he likes to call 'artistic nudes'. Others of us like to call them 'softcore homoerotic porn'." Leon gulped down half the bottle of beer, his anger flaring back up again. "Why was Sephiroth interested in you, Strife? Were you naked when you met him? Did you fuck him then and there?"

Cloud looked up. There was something burning in his eyes, something Leon had just caught the slightest glimpse of at the hospital. All the rage, all that burning hate and despair for what he'd been through in the past few days—and perhaps further back than that—it was all coming to the surface. Leon's accusations had brought it on.

His eyes flared an impossible blue. It looked like all the rage was about to break the floodgates, and Leon wanted to see it. He wanted to him go crazy. If Cloud ever dropped all that baggage, just let himself lose control…Leon got hard just thinking about it.

"Don't fuck with me," the blonde said, his voice low and controlled. "I hate being jerked around!"

Leon took another gulp of his beer, wondering how far he could push him. "Hell, I'm just warning you, Strife. Sephiroth would chew up and spit out a little guy like you." He smirked at the way Cloud's face twisted at the word 'little'. "I'm not jerking you around." He leaned forward across the narrow table, until there was barely a foot between them. "I'd like to."

Cloud didn't say anything, just picked up his glass, seemed to consider it for a few moments, and then flung it in Leon's face.

"The fuck?" Leon roared, standing up and sending his chair flying. He rubbed his eyes, hissing as the Coca-Cola stung. "You're a fucking bastard, Strife!"

The blonde was just glaring, deadly serious. "I don't like guys," he said. He didn't drop his eyes, didn't try to hide. He stood up, setting his half-eaten dinner in the sink, tossing a rag at Leon. He made to leave—go shut himself in his bedroom, no doubt—but the brunette grabbed his shoulder.

"Strife…Cloud. Believe me when I tell you this guy isn't good news." He sighed, bangs dripping soda onto his nose. "I know I'm an asshole, but I'm just trying to help you."

Blue eyes met grey, and for a moment they just looked at each other. Then Cloud chuckled, shook his head, and said, "You're just jealous."

He walked out into the living room, and a few seconds later Leon heard the door to the hall squeak open and slam shut. He just stood there, the silence reverberating in his ears.

"Fuck," he said to the empty house, kneading his temples. "Why do I always go for the angst-ridden ones?"

* * *

The rest of Riku's day wasn't much cause for celebration. After his lunch break with Sora he'd headed back to rehearsal, which hadn't gone brilliantly. They couldn't get ten lines into a scene without Leon calling a halt and chewing someone out. He nearly had Sephie, the girl playing Cecily, in tears at one point. He'd spent all day glancing surreptitiously back at the tech booth, as if there was something going on over there. Riku couldn't sea anyone besides that new guy, what's his face—Cloud something.

On his way home he narrowly avoided two potentially fatal accidents—one involving an overly-excited group of sixteen year-olds joyriding in a blue Volvo, and the other a strategically placed mailbox. Honest to god, he was sure it hadn't been there that morning. When he finally did manage to maneuver his way down Ocean Blvd and up his driveway, his nerves were frayed to the point of jumping at small noises and hurling a barrage of curses at the neighbors tabby, which had darted forward to sniff at his red converses.

He clomped up the front steps, unlocking his door and letting himself into the cool, echoey front hall. No lights had been switched on, but that didn't mean no one was home, it just meant they were elsewhere in the mansion. He kicked his shoes into the closest and climbed the front steps, stifling a yawn.

The sound of typing was issuing from his father's office. Riku hesitated, wishing there was some other way to get his room. But short of climbing the vines outside of his window, he'd have to risk letting the son of a bitch see him. He prayed he wouldn't try to strike up a conversation. Riku trod lightly, feeling like a burglar in his own fucking house.

"Oh, Riku, there you are."

_Of course, _he thought. _My day wouldn't be complete without this. _

"Hey, dad."

His father was sitting behind a big shiny desk, surface almost completely coated in files and stacks of papers. Some generic as hell painting of a hillside in autumn hung on the wall behind him. His hands were poised over his laptop, face bathed in the blue glow. There were no other lights on.

"Where have you been all day, son?"

Riku shrugged. On the outside he was everything passive and careless, but inside he'd gone numb. If his dad found out he was acting again, he'd throw a fit, probably send him away before the end of the summer.

"I've been out with some people."

His dad's expression didn't change, but he could see the wheels turning behind those cool grey eyes. George Erickson was every inch an attorney. He could play every emotion the situation called for, whether it be compassion, remorse, or keen interest in what the client had to say. There wasn't a word from his mouth that wasn't carefully calculated and put on. Sometimes, Riku wondered if he'd got his knack for acting from him after all.

"People…meaning a girlfriend?" he asked slowly.

Riku had to resist the urge to roll his eyes. His dad was always hoping he'd bring a girl home, most likely to dispel his fear that his one and only son was gay.

"No, no girlfriend," he said. He smiled. "Not today, anyway."

His father gave him a little grin in response, motioning him into the chair in front of his desk. Riku groaned internally. He'd been dreading this. His dad wanted to have a father/son talk. Man to man. Good grief. Riku liked his man to man encounters to be a little less familial. He sat down regardless.

"This arrived for you today," his father said, shifting aside a pile of manila folders and brandishing a large, bulky envelope at him. All the writing was in English, so Riku was forced to squint at it for several seconds before reading _University of Michigan at Anne Arbor. _

"It's an acceptance letter," his dad said, as if he was a little bit of an idiot.

"I know," Riku said dryly, setting it down on the desk without opening it. The seal had already been broken, it's contents no doubt already rifled though and poured over.

"Don't you want to read it?" his dad asked, voice tinged with just a hint of displeasure that his son was not jumping for joy at the very sight of the letter.

"I'll read it in the morning," Riku said. "I'm a little tired." He stood up, pushing his chair back and grabbing the envelope.

"Very well," Mr. Erickson said. "And Riku?"

"Yeah."

He'd gone back to his laptop, clicking the mouse once, twice. He glanced up. "Your mother and I are both very proud of you. You will make an excellent lawyer."

"Thanks, dad," Riku said, trying to keep the derision out of his voice. He hoped it came across as exhaustion.

"Once you've passed the bar, I have a few contacts who can help you find your niche in the practice. You're a hard-working boy, Riku. You'll go far."

Riku wanted to yell. He wanted to storm. He wanted to beat the bastard over the head, tell him he didn't want a fucking 'niche' in the practice. There was one thing in the world he wanted to do, and that was stand up on stage, amidst the heat and the lights, amidst the glory. He was a performer, through and through, and nothing, no one, would ever change that. He wanted to tell his father, wanted to make him repeat it until it was driven into that bigoted, narrow-minded cranium of his.

But all he said was, "Goodnight, dad."

He all but ran down the hall, flying down corners and banging into his dark room. He flung the acceptance envelope into the corner and threw himself on his bed, the irresistible need to cry, to scream, filling him. Instead, he dragged himself to the edge of his bed and groped blindly for something he hadn't touched in over two months.

Riku pulled the bulky case up onto his bedspread, flipping it open and pulling out the guitar. He tuned it in the dark, fingers tightening the strings and strumming out a few soft cords. The notion of what to play hadn't even crossed his mind, before he had began one of the first songs he'd ever learned for the guitar.

_One song glory, One song before I go. _

_Glory, one song to leave behind. _

_Find one song, one last refrain from the _

_Pretty-boy front man, who wasted opportunity. _

_One song, he had the world at his feet, _

_Glory, in the eyes of a young girl, a young girl. _

_Find glory, beyond the cheap colored lights, one song, _

_Before the sunsets, glory, on another empty life. _

It seemed so freakishly Emo, so melodramatic, to sit here in the dark, playing a song from a musical about not giving up on life and never surrendering to hopelessness. It seemed _so _contrived, but Riku didn't care.

_Time flies, time dies. _

_Glory, one blaze of glory. _

_One blaze of glory. _

_Glory. _

His voice was shaking, heavy with unshed tears. The guitar seemed impossibly out of tune, his voice horrendously awful, terribly out of practice, but he didn't care, didn't give a flying fuck.

_Find glory in a song that rings true, _

_Truth like a blazing fire, and eternal flame. _

_Find one song, a song about love—_

"You're so beautiful."

Riku's voice cracked, his fingers slipping on the strings as he turned to the source of the voice, so fast he nearly got whiplash.

"S-Sora?"

The little brunette was standing just to the right of his bed, hands behind him as he pulled the door the closet shut. He'd been listening the whole time.

"Sora…you…" Riku could feel his face burning with shame. Not only had Sora seen him all but fall to pieces, he'd heard him sing the most fucking _typical _thing an angsty thespian could come up with.

"I'm sorry," Sora said softly, perching on the corner of his bed. "It was just…so great. I didn't want to stop."

Riku snorted, though the sound came out more like a choked sob. "Great, yeah. Really fucking great." He tried to wipe the unshed tears away discreetly. "You shouldn't have to see me like this."

Sora had crept a little closer. He was wearing a pair of sleeping pants Riku recognized as his own, and nothing else. The crown pendant hung around his neck, glinting in the dark.

"What if I want to?" he asked.

Riku may have been feeling like one hell of an dumbass, like a total fool, but Sora didn't think he'd ever seen anything so beautiful. This was the most open, the most _human, _Sora had seen him. He was no longer the mysterious, untouchable god he'd met that night in a mansion by the sea. He was just…just Riku.

Curled up on the bed, arms clutching the guitar to him like a weapon, bathed in a tiny strip of moonlight from the parted curtains. His hair was mussed and tangled, eyes wild with surprise and just a hint of fear. Why the hell was he afraid of Sora?

He swallowed a couple of times. "W-Why were you in my closet?"

Sora laughed, scratching his head, suddenly uncomfortable himself. "Uh…"

Riku slipped his guitar back into the case, snapping it shut. "Sora? What's wrong?"

Sora shook his head. "I, uh…" He refused to meet Riku's eyes as he mumbled, "I guess my seduction plan got kinda screwed up…"

One word got through Riku's tired brain.

"Seduction?"

Sora blushed. "Yeah…"

Riku laughed and the brunette stiffened. "Sora, baby, you don't have seduce me." He scooted forward, taking Sora's chin and forcing him to meet his eyes. "You just have to exist. Believe me."

Sora giggled. "Yeah, but I was planning on coming on all. I was gonna creep out when you were all naked…and shit."

Riku dropped his head onto his shoulder, kissing his neck softly. "Well, this works out even better."

Sora gave him a questioning look.

"This way you get to undress me," the silver boy answered, voice going low and husky, and making Sora tingle to the tips of his toes. He reached forward, grabbing the hem of Riku's T-shirt and pulling it over his head. He ran his hands over his chest, tracing the contours of his stomach, feeling the muscles clench under his touch.

"I shoulda known," he muttered.

"Shoulda know what?" Riku wanted to know.

"Should have known the whole sexy seduction thing wouldn't work out. That only happens in movies and crappy fan-fiction."

Riku laughed. "Yeah, I guess you're right. This your first time?"

Sora gave Riku a rather sardonic look.

"Okay, okay, stupid question. What I meant was, you sure you're okay with this?"

Sora nodded without hesitation. "Yeah. I thought about it. I want you. Fuck me."

Riku shivered. He knew what Sora had been insinuating the last few minutes, but hearing him come out and say it made him squirm in delicious anticipation.

"Yes sir," he muttered, making short work of the distance between them and kissing him softly. Sora's mouth opened in a rush of heat and he thrust his tongue inside it, pulling the smaller boy into his arms. He could feel his excitement against his thigh and felt his own body responding in kind.

The kiss was wet and languid, neither of them in any kind of hurry. Riku slowly moved his lips down the curve of Sora's jaw, nipping at his ear and making him gasp. His warm tongue traced the shell and had him writhing in his arms, one horny mess of a teenage boy.

"Riku…" he purred, wrapping his arms around him and stroking his back. "That's…"

"Nice?" Riku prompted, giving the ear one last lick and moving down to his neck. Sora shuddered against him, slowly grinding his cock into his thigh.

"Does it hurt a lot?" he asked softly. He didn't sound frightened, exactly. Maybe just a bit cautious.

"A little," Riku admitted, moving his hands down Sora's back, fingers slipping under the elastic of his pants, kneading the warm muscles at the base of his spine. "But it isn't that bad."

"You've been on the bottom before?" the brunette asked, big blue eyes narrowed and disbelieving.

Riku rolled the two of them over, pinning Sora down on the mattress and kissing his forehead. "Yep. But I don't want to talk about it." Something angry flashed in his eyes, something that made Sora struggle to get out from under him.

Riku shook his head, tips of his silver hair tickling the brunette's cheeks. "Don't worry about it." He brushed his knuckles over Sora's cheek. "Water under the mother fucking bridge." Sora smiled at him and settled back against the mattress.

He let his hands drift down Sora's skinny abdomen, tracing his sides and feeling him squirm beneath his touch. He traced the outline of forming muscles, sliding a finger lightly up the center of his stomach, toward his sternum, and back down again. Sora let out a breathless giggle at the ticklish sensation. He lay back against the bed, letting his body relax.

Riku was nearly panting at the sight. He'd gone from teenage angst to blind lust in a manner of seconds. This kid…he wanted this kid _so fucking bad. _

Suddenly unable to wait a second longer, he practically tore the button of his jeans, jerking them off and making Sora laugh as he almost ended up flat on his face. He threw them to the floor, and then went to work on the other boy's, easing them down his hips and revealing his erection, hard and dripping.

Riku wrapped his fingers around it, stroking slowly, enjoying the way Sora moaned and rolled his hips. He was blushing, looking thoroughly embarrassed, but his eyes were on Riku. The lower parts of Riku, to be more exact.

"Dammit," he said. "I feel a little upstaged."

Riku laughed throatily, giving Sora's penis a little squeeze. "I'm just incredible in every way. Get used to it."

"Asshole," the younger boy breathed, the last syllable turning into a little gasp as Riku began to move his hand faster.

"That's what I had in mind," Riku muttered, lowering his head to lick at a perked nipple. Sora arched his back a little, mewling.

"How do you want to do this?" the silver haired boy asked a few moments later, resting his chin on the other's chest.

"Huh?" Sora wasn't very coherent at this point, he just wanted Riku to keep moving his goddamn hand.

"We can either do it with you on your back or on your knees," Riku explained matter-of-factly. "On your back is probably easier for your first time, but on your knees it's easier to get to your prostate." He grinned. "Your choice."

"Uh…" Sora really wished the choice wasn't left to him. It was so embarrassing, having to make a decision about something like this. "Why don't we start out…with me on my back, and then we'll…move on to other things." His voice trailed off at the end, but Riku heard it all, his stomach squirming pleasantly.

"Works for me," he said, rummaging under his bed for a moment and emerging with a half-empty tube of lube. "Lay back and relax."

Sora tried, he really did, but anticipation was flowing through his body like a drug. It was adrenaline on a completely new level. He knew it was going to hurt, but the fact that he was naked and under the object of his every wet dream balanced things out a little. Riku looked gorgeous like this—if you asked Sora, it was the best outfit he'd ever worn. Nothing, that is.

The silver-haired boy was busy slicking his hand with lube, sitting back on his haunches, hunkered between Sora's spread legs. He tossed the tube aside and, with a reassuring little smile, slid his index finger slowly into the boy's body. Sora wrinkled his nose slightly, but he didn't seem to be in too much pain. In fact, as Riku added another finger, he began to look more thoughtful than anything else.

"You know," he said, as Riku twisted his fingers a little. "The mechanics of this are actually a little gross, if you think about it."

Riku couldn't help it, he laughed, shoulders shaking. He hung his head, silvery hair flopping down into his eyes.

"Jesus, Sora. Didn't know you were so fucking romantic." He gave his knee an affectionate rub with his free hand. "I think it'd be better if you didn't dwell on it."

Sora blushed. "No, seriously, I—," he gasped as Riku began to move his fingers again. "I know it's supposed to be great and all, but I don't really see the point—Ahh!" He arched his back as a sharp bolt of sensation flew through his body. His nerve endings seemed to be trying to figure out exactly what it should be interpreted as—pain or pleasure. Riku touched the spot again.

"Shit," Sora breathed. "I think I'm starting to see the point."

Riku laughed again, drawing his fingers back out. "You ready?" he asked. Sora nodded his head earnestly, brown spikes flopping against the mattress.

Riku took a deep breath, steeling his control and moving forward, slipping into the warm embrace of the boy's body. The breath escaped in a rushing gasp as the aching need inside him was finally fulfilled. Sora gave a little moan of pain and he stayed still, waiting for the brunette to grow accustomed to the sensation. After only a few moments he began to move his hips weakly, and that was all the invitation Riku needed.

It wasn't intense and erotically passionate, it wasn't something to write songs about, but it was _good. _It was real. It felt to Riku, somehow, that some part of him that had been missing for the longest time was finally clicking into place. After a few thrusts Sora's whimpers of pain became tiny exclamations of pleasure, his eyes sliding shut and his mouth opening. Riku surged forward, kissing him hotly, the change in angle making the brunette cry out.

Throughout, Riku was acutely aware of the other people in the house, people who would never understand if they walked in on a scene like this. To them, it would be disgustingly perverse—a sinful, perverted act unfit even for an animal. Two teenage boys having sex.

But, in all honesty, Riku couldn't give a shit. He found himself unable to care about anything but the boy underneath him. He reached between their sweaty bodies, gripping Sora's cock and driving him the last few inches over the edge into ecstasy. Sora gave a long, low moan, wiry frame shuddering with release. He felt the body beneath his slacken, and he closed his eyes, focusing on the rhythm and the pleasure pulsing through his veins as he drove into the tight heat twice more. He collapsed on top of Sora, utterly breathless.

The brunette giggled weakly in his ear. "Well, dammit," he managed to say. "My ass hurts."

Riku groaned into his neck. "Like I said. Fucking romantic."

* * *

It was almost a whole twenty four hours before Yuffie heard anything at all from the hospital. A secretary gave her a call, requesting she come in, as she was the only person they had contact info for. Vincent had no hospital file, no police file, no I.D., nothing to prove he even existed. They only knew her number because she'd given it to a paramedic before she'd been shooed from the crime scene.

The secretary wouldn't inform her of Vincent's status, wouldn't even tell Yuffie if he was alive. Was she coming to the hospital to visit him, or to claim a body?

. North Street Hospital was as hoping as ever, and Yuffie had to stand in line for over ten minutes before she reached the reception desk. She gave the man Vincent's name, before he informed her that she could have gone back right away. No need to wait in line, she was expected.

_Fuckin' gorgeous, _she thought grumpily as she navigated the bright, sterile halls. She took the elevator four floors up, striding up to yet another reception desk and asking for Mr. Valentine's doctor.

"Down the hall and to the left, sweetheart," the woman behind the counter told her. Her smile was kind, but it was bland, just like all the rest of the hospital workers'. It revealed nothing.

Yuffie followed the directions, turning down the hall and stopping outside a room where a man in a lab coat was flipping through a file folder. He looked up when she was a few feet away.

"Miss Kisaragi?"

"Yeah," she said.

The doctor offered her a hand. He was tall and rather imposing, with long hair on the borderline between platinum blonde and silver. He was one of those people who's age was difficult to estimate—he could have been anywhere from twenty-five to forty.

"You can call me Ansem," he said, with a little half-smile. "I've been treating your Mr. Valentine."

"Is he alive?" Yuffie asked, not bothering with anymore niceties.

Ansem nodded slowly. "Yes he is. In fact," he reached for the doorknob, "I've never seen anything like it." With that enigmatic statement, he pushed the door open, holding it for Yuffie as she stepped inside.

An EKG beeped quietly in the corner, measuring a steady heart rate. It was connected to a man lying in the hospital bed, his eyes closed, his expression peaceful. His chest rose and fell rhythmically, setting Yuffie's mind immediately at ease. Vincent's hair had been pulled back away from his face—the sickeningly white pallor was gone, replaced by just his usual degree of pale.

"What do you mean, you've never seen anything like it?" Yuffie prompted, crossing her arms as Dr. Ansem crossed the room to fiddle with the I.V. "He looks okay to me."

Ansem set his file down. "That's just it, Miss Kisaragi. He shouldn't look okay. By all rights, he should be dead." Yuffie started. The doctor held up a hand, continuing. "When you found him, he had already been bleeding out for quite some time. In addition, he was going into hypothermic shock, and he'd been sucking down water for the better part of fifteen minutes. He should be dead.

"Instead, his hypothermia disappeared within the hour, and the gashes in his stomach have healed a week's worth in twenty four hours." Ansem raised his hands in a surrendering gesture. "Frankly, I'm stumped. I was wondering if you could give me a little insight, Miss Kisaragi."

Yuffie shook her head. "I've only known him for a couple weeks. He's my tutor." She was suddenly angry at herself for not getting to know him better. The one night they'd hung out she'd been shit-drunk. "I don't even know how old he is, or if he goes to college or anything."

"Well, I've guessed his age to be about twenty one or so. He has no file or identification. We wouldn't even know his name if you hadn't told the medics."

"So you don't know if he has insurance?" Yuffie asked, surprised at herself for having the presence of mind to think of something like that.

Ansem shook his head. "No, but we're legally obligated to treat anyone brought in bleeding to death." It took her a minute to realize he was making a joke.

"Ha ha," she said, her gaze alighting back on Vincent. "Can I wake him up?"

Dr. Ansem ran his fingers through his hair in what might have been interpreted on a lesser man as a nervous gesture. "I put him on a sedative," he said slowly. "To tell you the truth, we're all a little scared of him here."

Yuffie furrowed her eyebrows. It took her a moment to catch-on. She snorted. "Oh, come on. You think he's a vampire, or something?"

Even as she laughed, a little voice in her head whispered, _he's sure sexy enough to be one. _

Dr. Ansem didn't join in her levity. "Well, I don't think he's a vampire, seeing as he is breathing and has no fangs, but he's not ordinary, that much is certain." He looked dead serious, as if he were giving her a lecture on the function of the segmented vertebrae, rather than horror-novel creatures.

Yuffie put her hands on her hips. "Do vampires exist, Doctor?"

Ansem gave her another small smile. "I'm not at liberty to discuss that, Miss Kisaragi."

"Great," Yuffie said, dropping into the chair at the foot of Vincent's bed. "Perfect. Freakin' fabulous."

"He'll wake up in a couple of hours. You can stick around if want to. There's a coffee shop two floors down."

* * *

Wow. So...fucking…long.

Anyway. You may have noticed that sex scene wasn't the most gloriously passionate thing in the world. In my mind, Sora's and Riku's sexual relationship is one based on trust and (dare I say it) friendship, meaning they are two people who could easily spend the rest of their lives together. Of course, there's plenty of animal lust and all that good stuff in there too, but I imagine their first time would be…less porno movie, more true-to-life, if that makes any sense at all.

Anyway, we'll get to the hot, heavy, oh-god-more stuff with Cloud and Leon. Their relationship is much more based on carnal attraction and domination. And Cloud's a fuckin' masochist, people. I actually have some stuff planned that I'm not even sure I can put on this site…ehe heh. I'll have to see about that.

Please, please, _please _review!!!!

See you next time!


	14. Unsafe, Insane, and Nonconsensual

Disclaimer: If it belonged to me, do you think I'd be writing this? No, I would be fulfilled.

Well, hello there, faithful readers! It's been kind of awhile, and I'm sorry about that. I've been out of the country without any access to my laptop, though I did write some stuff out longhand while I was at the airport in Kuwait. We had an eight hour layover and I spent it sitting in the lounge, drinking about eight cappuccinos and writing furiously in my black notebook. Some guy came up to me, and I think he asked me what I was doing, but my Arabic isn't that great. Anyway. Back on topic.

Yeah.

I really like this chapter, 'cause it's got a lot of Sephiroth, and he is just teh sexy. And the chapter title just makes me giggle. Riku and Axel aren't in it, but that's okay. Riku got laid last chapter, and Axel got to be heroic boyfriend guy. That should tide them over.

Chapter 14

Unsafe, Insane, and Nonconsensual

* * *

Hospital coffee tasted like ass.

That was all the information she'd managed to glean in an afternoon sitting on that hard little stool. Hospital coffee tasted like ass.

_Not that it's much of a surprise, _she though moodily, tossing the offending substance into the trashcan.

Despite what Dr. Ansem had said, Vincent hadn't stirred. He was still lying there on his back, the blankets pulled down to his waist so they wouldn't touch the slices on his stomach. They stood out harsh and red against the smooth paleness of his skin, zigzagged and crooked. There had been nothing meticulous to this attack, nothing slow and thought-out. The wounds were scattered at random, some much deeper than others. The workings of a madman.

"I bet you're wondering why we haven't bandaged them."

Yuffie tore her eyes away from the man on the bed. There was a short blonde standing in the doorway, a box of empty syringes in her hands. She had on a nurse's uniform and a nameplate that was hanging so crooked Yuffie couldn't read it. She looked like she'd been on duty for awhile.

"Not really," Yuffie said. "But now that you mention it…" She glanced back at Vincent and the stark wounds. "Won't they get infected and shit if you don't cover them up?"

The nurse set the box down on the counter. "That's, like, the really weird part. We tried." She turned back to Yuffie, eyes big and excited, as if this was the juiciest gossip she could imagine. Yuffie realized, in a setting like this, maybe it was. "We bandaged him up and used disinfectant and everything, and he started to go critical."

Yuffie raised an eyebrow? "Critical? I don't know the lingo…" She tilted her head and squinted at the nameplate. "Namine."

"It's _Nah-me-nay,_" the nurse said, drawing out the syllables. "Not _Na-Meen_. Whoever makes the tags forget the little pronunciation thingy."

"That's tragic," Yuffie commented. She had disliked the pretty blonde on principle the moment she'd walked in, but she was beginning to think her ignorant and unfair judgment was close to the mark. This girl was an airhead.

"Yeah, I know right? Anyway, we tried to bandage him and everything, but right when the cuts were covered up, he started to, like, shake and stuff."

"Shake?" Yuffie repeated. "What do you mean by that?"

_Nah-me-nay _began piling the syringes into a drawer. "I mean he started to just freak out, and his heartbeat went crazy. We didn't know what was wrong, and then Dr. Ansem tore of the bandages, and he was fine."

"Dr. Ansem told me he's healing too fast to be normal," Yuffie" said, frowning.

Namine nodded enthusiastically, ponytail bouncing. "Yeah. It's like he's a vampire or a werewolf or something! It's so awesome!" She practically squealed this.

"How is it awesome?" Yuffie asked coolly, disliking this girl more with every passing moment.

"Well," Namine explained, "Vampires are all sexy right?" She darted a little glance at Vincent. "And he is like, totally gorgeous! And, you know…" She lowered her voice conspiratorially. "I got to see the whole package, if you know what I mean!" She giggled, and Yuffie could have punched her in the face.

She held herself back, and asked, "The whole package? And what do you think?" Her rage was bubbling under the surface, and someone with better survival instincts would have gotten out then and there. But not miss Nah-me-nay.

"He's pretty damn awesome," she giggled. "I mean, he's pretty equipped."

Yuffie's anger must have shown on her face, because a moment later Namine lost her giggly blush and suddenly put a hand to her mouth. "Wait, you're not his girlfriend, or anything, right?"

Yuffie could literally feel her anger mounting, like a beast inside her. "Yeah, I am. You wanna make something of it?"

"No," Namine said, holding up dainty hands covered in shiny rings. It was pretty doubtful that those things were regulation for a nurse. "No, but I mean…" She looked Yuffie up and down with barely veiled disdain. "You don't really look like his girlfriend. I mean, I thought you were a dude when I walked in."

Yuffie had her hand up, had her fist up to punch the little bitch in the face. This dumb blonde with her makeup and cleavage and short skirt. Next to her, Yuffie did look like a boy. She was skinny and narrow-hipped, and her chest was hidden beneath the black wife-beater she'd thrown on. She was about to let her fist fly, when Vincent made a sound.

It wasn't loud, just a little gasp, but it was enough to remind Yuffie just where she was and what would happen if she started knocking the staff around. She spun on her heel, marching over to Vincent's bedside. She ran her fingers through that thick dark hair, smoothing it away from his face. She leaned down until her lips nearly brushed his neck. She glanced back over her shoulder.

"Why don't you get the fuck out and leave me alone with my boyfriend?"

Namine had her mouth hanging slightly open. "You can't touch him. Nobody's supposed to touch him, Doctor's orders."

Yuffie turned back, snapping, "Fuck you." She kissed Vincent's neck. His skin was warm and soft underneath her lips. Relief filled her like cool water after a slog through the desert. She had actually been worried for a minute there, worried he might be a vampire. Some kind of unholy monster. But vampire's weren't warm, were they?

It felt startlingly good, being this close to him. Without really realizing what she was doing, she kissed him again, running her lips down his neck and darting her tongue out to taste the place his collarbone met his shoulder. She was just marveling at the fact his body could be so pale and hold so much heat, when a hand wrapped around her wrist. She gasped, jerking back.

"What wonderful service they have in this hospital." Vincent cracked a wine-red eye open. "Hello, Yuffie."

His voice was low and rusty, but he sounded fairly coherent. His chapped lips twitched into a smile.

"Oh god, he's awake!"

Yuffie glanced over her shoulder. She'd forgotten about Namine for a moment. She had a hand over her mouth, eyes wide and staring. The hospital staff had turned Vincent into such an oddity, such a legendary creature in the last day and a half, that seeing him awake was probably more than her little mind could handle.

Vincent just laughed, deep and throaty. He bared his teeth in a snarl.

Namine gave a little jump. "I'll go get the doctor!" she said, hightailing it out of the room and leaving the half-empty box of syringes on the counter. Yuffie waited until the sound of her frantically clicking heels had faded into the distance of the long, sterile halls.

Then she said, "What the fuck was that?"

Vincent laughed again, and he sounded almost giddy. It was almost a giggle. Yuffie wasn't sure if that was even possible, a man liked Vincent—giggling.

"Vince, are you doped up?" she asked accusingly.

The man put a hand to his eyes, rubbing the sleep out of them. He laughed again. "I guess I am," he said, smiling serenely at her. "Now, why don't you tell me why you were kissing my neck?"

Yuffie could feel the furious blush trying to work itself to the surface. She could either go all apologetic and giggly or—.

"What, am I not allowed to kiss your neck?" she asked flippantly, crossing her arms. "Is that against the law, or some shit?"

Vincent looked a little surprised. "What? No, no one said you weren't allowed to kiss my neck, but…" She could see his morphine-saturated mind trying to process everything that was happening.

Yuffie grinned. "Maybe I was trying to convince Miss Nah-me-nay you were off limits."

"Off limits," Vincent echoed. He chuckled, then looked back up at her. "I had a dream you saved my life. Was it real?"

Yuffie shrugged, suddenly more uncomfortable than she'd been when he'd accused her of molesting him in his sleep. "I guess. I mean, I called the ambulance and stopped you from drowning and shit, but you were the one who shot that guy…"

Vincent's brows knit together and he opened his mouth to speak, but before he could make a sound—

"I'm not interrupting anything, am I?"

It was like someone threw a switch in Vincent's brain. One moment, he was lying back, peaceful and faintly drugged up, and the next his eyes were wide and burning. His shoulders stiffened as he sat up, right hand digging into the sheet over his legs. His other hand gripped Yuffie's wrist again, clenching tight.

"Oww, Vincent, what the fuck?" She struggled, glancing over at Doctor Ansem, who was watching the proceedings with something that looked frighteningly close to amusement. It wasn't the guise one would expect a doctor to wear while watching a patient manhandle a visitor.

"Vincent, you're hurting me, you bastard, let go!"

But Vincent wasn't looking at Yuffie. He didn't even seem to be aware of his nails digging into her skin. It was like rigor mortis had set in, leaving him as stiff and motionless as a corpse.

"You," he breathed.

Dr. Ansem smiled softly, though Yuffie noticed the expression didn't really reach his cat-like eyes. He was no longer wearing his white doctor coat—he had changed into a pair of black jeans and a ribbed black turtleneck. He was a handsome man, but it was a cold and menacing beauty.

"You're not a fucking doctor," Yuffie spat. Then she said, "What the fuck?"

She hadn't meant to say it, hadn't meant to make the accusation. There was no reason for her to think he wasn't a doctor. It was like something had spoken through her.

Ansem smiled, but it didn't hold any of the warmth of a few hours ago. "On the contrary, Miss Kisaragi, I am the doctor in charge in this hospital whenever Dr. Almasy is off duty." He turned his yellowish, cat-narrow eyes to Vincent. "For a moment I thought you wouldn't recognize me."

Vincent's grip on Yuffie's wrist loosened, but he didn't let go. "You can dye your hair any color you want, and you can hide behind as many titles as you can scare up, but you'll always be the same sick, spineless son of a bitch. Diz." He added the last almost like an afterthought.

But whatever it was (it meant absolutely nothing to Yuffie) it had an impact. The expression on Ansem's face grew hungry, almost crazed.

"It's been years since anyone called me by that name. It makes me all tingly inside."

Yuffie was looking from one to the other, feeling like she was witnessing an approaching cyclone. "Okay, will someone be awesome and tell me what the motherfuck is going on?"

Both men glanced at her, both with similarly confused expressions, as if they'd forgotten all about her. Vincent opened his mouth, possibly to explain, but Ansem got there first.

"Me and your Mr. Valentine go way back, Miss Kisaragi." His lip curled into a sneer. "I could scarcely believe my eyes when he was wheeled into _my _hospital of all places, bleeding from the chest. Who did it, Vinny?"

"Hojo." Vincent said the name quietly, like if he spoke too loud its owner might suddenly appear in the room. "It was Hojo."

Ansem looked faintly surprised. "Hojo? Huh. Never thought the bastard would have had the balls. Looks like he carved you up pretty well, but why didn't he just shoot you? He knows what you are as well as I do."

Yuffie gave him a look that was half incredulous, half disdainful. "You know what he is? So all that junk about him being potentially dangerous and something you've never seen before was complete bullshit."

"Not complete bullshit," Ansem answered, leaning against the wall, relaxed, as if they were discussing what to order for dinner. "I wasn't exactly sure if it was him at first, and I thought maybe I could get some insight from his girlfriend."

Yuffie glanced at Vincent, expecting him to illuminate Ansem to the state of their relationship. He didn't say anything, just pulled Yuffie closer to him, almost possessively close. Despite the fact that she was now nearly bent at the waist, her heart was hammering against her ribs. Up close he smelled smoky, not cigarette smoky, more like wood-smoke, cloves and cinnamon.

Ansem seemed unaware of her current interest in burying her nose in Vincent's skin, and had kept talking.

"And, of course, when I told you he was potentially dangerous, I wasn't exaggerating. He could kill everyone in this hospital without breaking a sweat."

Yuffie gave what was meant to be a disbelieving laugh, but it came out more nervous than anything else. She glanced at Vincent, but she got nothing but hard eyes, eyes like diamonds. Or rubies, for the imagery.

"I'm going to destroy you, Diz. Just like I destroyed Hojo."

Ansem's smile widened. "Indeed?"

"Yes," Vincent said. "I'll kill you."

Yuffie made a little sound, drawing his eyes. "Vincent, exactly what is going on? What are we doing?"

"Leaving," he muttered. She could feel the muscles in his shoulders tensing.

He sprang forward so quickly her arm was nearly jerked from its socket. One moment they were in the hospital room, and the next Vincent had ripped the IV from his hand and they were flying down the corridor. Almost literally—she could barely feel her feet touching the floor. She was vaguely aware of hospital rooms flashing by, and then of some ringing alarm. And suddenly there were security guards, almost everywhere, it seemed. Coming out of doors, running along the hallway.

One thing was penetrating through the haze of Yuffie's mind.

_You'd think it was a goddamn prison break. _

Vincent skidded to a halt at an intersection of hallways, spinning in a circle wildly, dragging Yuffie along for the ride. She was going to have internal _wrist _bleeding by the time all of this was over. Exactly what _this _was, she wasn't quite sure.

Vincent was looking up. They were standing underneath a huge skylight, afternoon sunlight pouring down on them like a pool of butterscotch. There were cracks spiderwebbing across it, like it had been hit by something heavier than rain at one point. Maybe hail.

He glanced back down at her. "Are you with me?"

"What?"

He jiggled her aching wrist a little. "Are you with me? Do you trust me?"

Yuffie thought she'd heard this line before. People in movies always asked it before they did something insane.

"Yes…" She almost winced as she said it.

Vincent gave her a quick smile that despite the situation sent her heart pounding. He pulled her toward him, swinging her up until he was holding her bridal style in is arms.

And then he jumped.

Alright, jumped wasn't the right word for it. He _bounded. _They were no longer touching on the ground, but going up, up, up, towards the cracked glass. Yuffie braced herself, but she felt Vincent curl his body over her, taking the impact into himself. With an almighty crash, they smashed through the skylight and out into the open air.

Yuffie hid her face against Vincent's bare stomach, almost too shocked to be terrified. This wasn't possible, this wasn't fucking possible! Vincent was flying. Like fucking superman. Well, not entirely like superman. Superman streaked through the air weightlessly, but the flight the two of them were currently experiencing seemed choppy, dragging, like Vincent was flapping a giant pair of wings.

_Wings…? _

Slowly, tremblingly, Yuffie raised her head. The wind ripped at her hair, smacking it around her face like greedy little hands. Spread out above the two of them were two black, feathery, _massive_, you guessed it, wings. Vincent looked straight at her, and his eyes had bled to crimson, the pupils gone. He smiled, his teeth suddenly a lot sharper than they needed to be.

And just like that, Yuffie's story became a little different than she'd expected.

* * *

"Roxas, you live in the back of a freakin' nightclub."

Sora's cousin cast him a glance from his prone position on a lumpy mattress. "For seriously, Sor? I didn't notice. Thank you, oh observant one."

"Fuck you," Sora said serenely, dropping down and chucking him a plastic shopping bag. "Here."

"What is this?"

"Red meat and green leafy vegetables," Sora answered, hand over his head, tracing the pattern of a crack in the ceiling in midair.

"That's real thoughtful of you, Sor, but I don't have anywhere to cook anything. Don't even have a goddamn microwave."

Sora let his arm fall. He sat up. "Oh yeah…shit." He let his eyes wander over the rough wooden floor, the walls that had most likely begun as white but had faded to something more like gray. The sheets were stained with some questionable substances and looked like they hadn't been washed in weeks.

"Is it always this hot in here?" Sora asked

Roxas shrugged. "Only in the summer." He reached across the floor, switching on the little fan that sat on the floor, twisted into a broken-looking angle. It rattled to life, oscillating slowly back and forth. It didn't do much more than move the hot air around the room, but at least it was no longer quite so stifling.

A silence fell between the two boys. It wasn't awkward, exactly. It held something more like caution, as if they both were afraid of scaring the other off. Roxas was lying on his back, eyes on the cracked ceiling, sweaty blonde hair stirred by the fan. He looked different than he had two years ago. Not just physically, that much was a given. It was more like something in his face, in his air. Something that told Sora he'd seen more than any seventeen year old ever should have to. Roxas had always been rather distant, but there was something else now, something—

"Sad," Sora muttered.

Roxas glanced down the mattress at him. "What?"

"Are you happy, Rox?"

Sora expected him to say yes. He expected him to act like a normal human being and say, 'of course I'm alright, don't worry about it.' But Roxas just looked back at the ceiling.

"Should I be?"

"I don't know," Sora admitted, a little thrown that he would now have to explain himself. "I don't really understand what happened. I mean, you kind of explained it to me, but I still don't know—."

"Why I prefer this piece of shit place to living back at your parents house?" Roxas had finally sat up. He didn't sound defensive at all, and the look in his eyes was more tired than anything else.

For some reason, Sora's eyes kept threatening to fill up with tears. He blinked furiously, trying to hide behind a clump of hair flopping in his face. "Yeah," he said. "I don't get it, Rox. Please explain it to me. Why did you run away from home?"

His cousin frowned. "It wasn't my home, Sora. It was yours. My home died two years ago."

"It was your home," Sora said quietly, fidgeting with the hemp bracelet he'd bought the week before. "It could have been your home."

But Roxas was shaking his head. "No, Sora. It couldn't be. You know I hate pity. You know I hate bullshit. You know I hate your step-dad."

Sora looked up. "What the hell do you mean? What did he ever do to you?"

"What did he ever do to _us, _you mean."

Sora was still staring at him, expression caught between confused and hostile. "What the hell are you talking about?"

Roxas was the picture of calm compared to his the brunette cousin, who was beginning to lose it. "Sora, there wasn't one day we woke up and went down for breakfast that he didn't make some crack at us for being gay."

Realization dawned on Sora, and he began to laugh. "Is that what it was? Roxas, he was making jokes, he didn't mean anything by it."

Roxas hugged his knees to his chest, resting his chin on top. It was a position he'd been sitting in since he was a kid, especially when he was under any kind of pressure.

"They may have been jokes to you, Sor, but I started hiding just so I wouldn't have to take it from him. You shouldn't have to avoid your uncle 'cause he's such a dick to you, that's just fucked up."

Sora didn't respond, but he didn't make any attempt to stop Roxas from talking.

Now that Roxas had a point to make he wasn't letting his eyes wander anymore, he was looking straight at his cousin, expression more earnest than Sora thought he'd ever seen it. "There's more, Sor. Remember that he wouldn't ever let us bring any friends up to our room? I mean, he wouldn't let us bring guy friends up there?"

Sora shrugged. He remembered.

Roxas made a face. "He was convinced we'd fuck absolutely everything we brought up there."

"You did fuck up there, Rox. I remember I got pissed at you a lot for it.

"I fucked one guy up there," Roxas snapped back. "And Joe was my boyfriend. I never did anything with anyone else back then, and you know it."

Sora shrugged once again. He still wasn't seeing the point.

"He treated us like freaks, Sora," Roxas said, very slowly and clearly, as if he were explaining it to a particularly stupid person. "Like fucking juvenile delinquents. Did you know that he didn't even want us sharing a room?"

"What? No." Sora hadn't known that part.

"I heard him fighting with your mom. He told her he didn't trust us together alone." He bared his teeth. "It was like because we were gay he suspected us off all that other shit that he thought was 'amoral'."

Sora was beginning to catch on, and he seriously wished he wasn't. "You mean he thought we'd have sex with _each other_?"

Roxas just nodded.

"That's ridiculous, Rox. We're _cousins _for godsake."

"I know that," Roxas snapped. "But it was like because we were gay the fucker thought we'd be into the incest too. And drugs, and S and M and shit."

"What did my mom say?" Sora asked quietly.

"She told him he was crazy, and he got really mad. I think he might have hit her if I hadn't walked in."

"That doesn't sound like Steven at all," Sora said, shaking his head.

"He hid the really awful stuff from you, Sor. He didn't hide it from me."

"I just…" Sora shook his head, slightly drooping brown spikes flopping into his eyes. "I don't know, Rox. I don't know if I believe you."

Sora was expecting more of that quiet apathy, but Roxas narrowed his eyes. His hands had balled themselves into fists where they rested on his knees, and he was shaking.

"Well, then fuck you. Get the fuck out." He fell back onto the mattress, drawing the stained sheet up over his head.

* * *

It was getting on toward noon on Wednesday morning, and Leon was moody. Alright, not moody. Pissed.

Cloud had come stomping back into the apartment Sunday evening. Leon was surprised to see him—he'd thought the blonde was gone for good. But no, he'd come back, and said nothing about the fight. Hadn't apologized, hadn't requested an apology of Leon, just gone to sleep on the living room couch. After that, he'd been friendly, but he'd gone back to being Cloud. Quiet, always on guard, as if he expected Leon to fly at him at any given moment.

Leon leaned his elbows on his desk, burying his fingers in his hair.

His life had become one big gay soap opera, practically overnight. He was attracted to his employee. Okay, screw the subtlety. He wanted to fuck his employee within an inch of his life, but said employee was still insisting he didn't appreciate the penis. Leon was fairly confident he could change that, maybe within a couple of days. He may have acted closed and distant most of the time, but Leon could be one sexy son of a bitch when the situation called for it.

But now he had yet another obstacle—in the form of a silver-haired slut of a photographer. There was no doubt in Leon's mind what Sephiroth was really after. That tight ass and muscular arms, smooth, soft, shining blonde hair…

Leon jerked himself out of his daydream before he was forced to take a trip to the bathroom and jerk something else.

He sat back in his chair, watching the lunch break tick away on the clock above the door. He wasn't particularly hungry.

Half-heartedly, he wiggled the mouse of his desktop computer, bringing up the web browser. Feeling almost like a naughty teenage boy again, he typed 'masochism' into the search bar. It brought up a whole mess of videos and porn sites, but there were a couple links that looked informational. He clicked on the first of these.

It was an encyclopedia site, detailing a large list of deviant behavior. He clicked on the link BDSM.

_Sexual Sadism is the pleasure or gratification gained from inflicting physical or mental harm upon another person. The word is derived from the Marquis de Sade a French writer who specialized in novels and plays of a sadistic nature. _

_Sexual Masochism is the pleasure or gratification gained from having physical or mental harm inflicted upon oneself. _

The article was quite long, and Leon didn't have time to read it at the moment. He bookmarked it, for after rehearsal. Before he turned off the computer, however, he clicked over to his email. He had one new message.

He read it quickly, as slow grin spreading over his face.

"Well, I'll be damned," he muttered.

Could you say synchronicity?

* * *

"Good afternoon, Mr. Strife."

Cloud's stomach clenched. He'd only heard that voice once before, but it was enough to send chills skittering over his bare arms. Looking up from the lightboard, he swung his chair around.

Sephiroth stood at the base of the steps, one elegant hand wrapped around the banister. Today he was wearing a deep red muscle tank and a pair of black jeans. His hair had been pulled back out of his face, emphasizing his sharp cheekbones and making his eyes look even more impossibly green.

_Good god, he's gorgeous, _Cloud thought, before he remembered he wasn't supposed to admit things like that to himself.

"Hey, Mr.—."

"Sephiroth," the silver-haired man said, striding up the three steps onto the platform. "Just Sephiroth. No Mr."

"Okay," Cloud said, feeling like a dumbass. "H-How are you?" This wasn't supposed to happen. He wasn't supposed to blush and stutter when he spoke with a good-looking man. He was allowed to feel jealousy, allowed to envy that Sephiroth was better than him in almost every way, but attraction…that was not allowed. Neither was this burning desire to touch him, to see if that body felt as good as it looked.

_Shit, _Cloud thought. _Shit, shit, shit. _

"I'm alright," Sephiroth said airily, fixing him with that piercing gaze. "How are you, Strife?"

"Cloud," Cloud corrected.

Sephiroth's eyes sparkled with amusement. "Yes, I remember, Cloud."

Cloud just stood there for a couple of moments, feeling retarded. Sephiroth seemed perfectly content just to stand there and stare at him.

"Oh, uh, if you wanted to talk to Mr. Leonhart, he's in his office." Cloud said all of this in a rush, slurring the last few words together. Seriously, he was acting exactly the way he had when he met Aeris. Like an idiot.

"Actually, I didn't come here to see him, I was more interested in speaking with you."

Cloud blinked. "Me?"

"You sound so shocked, Cloud," chuckled Sephiroth. "One would almost think you weren't used to being the center of attention."

"I'm not," Cloud said stiffly, a lot more uncomfortable than he should have been. This was the tech booth, his space. He was the master of this tiny room. But dammit, Sephiroth just seemed to take up all the air inside.

The silver-haired man let his fingers trail over the knobs and buttons of the lightboard, lips curling lightly. "It's tragic, the fact that someone as beautiful and—," he let his eyes travel up and down Cloud's body, "—_Well-built _as you would waste their time as a stagehand."

Cloud was faintly aware he had just been paid a compliment and insulted at the same time, but all he could think of to say was, "Sorry."

Sephiroth glanced back at him, and the sight of those eyes was a blow to the stomach. "Don't apologize. I was merely making a comment. That, and trying to impress upon you how serious I was yesterday about offering you a job. I want you to work for me, Cloud."

Cloud realized his mouth was hanging slightly open, and closed it. "I-I don't know anything about modeling. I'm not really into the idea, to tell you the truth," he admitted.

Sephiroth's smile didn't falter. "Well, then allow me a chance to convince you. Would you like to go out for a drink tonight?"

Cloud swallowed. Sephiroth could have phrased it a hundred different ways, but he'd asked it like a date. He wanted to take him out for drinks.

"Okay," he said weakly.

* * *

Leon and Cloud met outside in the parking lot after rehearsal. It was a depressingly small, overgrown lot of concrete trapped between the theatre and the café next door. Leon constantly told the owner they needed more parking, but he seemed to believe people should be satisfied with parking by the side of the road.

"Are you ready to go?" he asked Cloud.

The blonde took a deep breath. "Yeah. I am."

Leon smiled as encouragingly as he knew how. That morning before work he'd suggested Cloud go home and get some of his clothes, as he didn't really seem like he was going anywhere. He'd seemed more than eager to do it, as if he needed something official to prove he was no longer with Aeris anymore.

_Well, at least that's one hurdle gone, _the brunette thought to himself. _He doesn't seem to want anything more to do with her. _

Leon glanced around the lot and swore. "Shit, Cloud, I forgot I walked here today. We've got go back to the apartment to grab the car, sorry about that."

Cloud looked like he was wrestling with something. He kept glancing from the road to the back of the lot, to where there was nothing but a decrepit looking pick-up truck that had been sitting there for months, and a shiny black motorcycle.

"We could…we can take Fenrir."

Leon cocked an eyebrow. "Come again?"

Cloud turned red, that very familiar blush that was both annoying and unbelievably endearing. "My bike…my motorcycle." He jerked his thumb to the back of the lot.

Leon's face broke into a grin. "Fuck, Strife, where did you get that?"

"I've had it for a couple years. Aeris thinks it's ridiculous," he admitted.

"Well, I think it's excellent. But where the hell did it come from?"

Cloud dug his hands into his pockets. "You remember when I took the bus home yesterday?"

"Yeah," Leon said slowly, embarrassed by how upset he was by the face Cloud had just called Aeris' house 'home'.

"I didn't talk to Aeris," he said. "I just grabbed the bike and ran."

Leon felt a headache threatening to form behind his eyeballs. "So she doesn't know we're coming?" Cloud shook his head.

"Wonderful," Leon said. "This is going to be a party."

Cloud grimaced. Leon got the feeling that no matter how much he himself was dreading this little meeting, Strife must have been downright nauseous. How the hell do you do something like this gracefully—visit an ex-girlfriend who checked you into the hospital because of your tendency to want to add a little spice to the sex?

"We can take the bike, if you want," Cloud said. "We don't have to walk back to the apartment."

"Alright," Leon said, shrugging.

It quickly became clear, however, that it was better than alright. Cloud's motorcycle (Fenrir, had he called it?) may have been big enough for two people, but Leon would slide the fuck off, unless, of course, he were to wrap his arms around the blonde and hold him close.

Cloud straddled the bike, procuring a ring of keys from his pocket and starting the engine with a roar. All awkwardness left his manner the moment he touched the handlebars. He proceeded to adjust things and fiddle with dials with all the grace of a trained technician playing with their favorite machine. The sleek black bike matched Cloud somehow.

"Get on," he called over the rumbling of the bike.

Leon swung a leg over the idling beast of a machine, hesitating a moment before wrapping his arms around Cloud's back. The blonde stiffened for a moment, muscles tensed. But then he relaxed back against Leon, letting out what could have been mistaken for a contented sigh. His skin was warm beneath his T-shirt, almost hot.

"Do you have helmets?" Leon asked in his ear as he pulled out of the lot.

"You don't have to wear them on Destiny Island," Cloud called back. "It's not a law."

"Isn't that dangerous?"

Cloud shrugged against his chest. "Probably."

_I never really took him to be a daredevil…_Leon thought, smiling slightly.

It didn't turn out to be _too _dangerous. Cloud really seemed to know what he was doing, leaning into corners and actually using the goddamn brake, something Leon had noticed most crazy kids on motorcycles had a tendency to ignore. He relished the chance to be so close to Strife without him being able to pull away, but after a few minutes he began to experience a little…

Problem.

Cloud's proximity and the vibration of the bike had converged to give Leon one of the most painful hard-ons he'd had in awhile. He knew Cloud could feel it, from the way the blonde had stiffened up once again, but he didn't say anything.

_He knows these things are involuntary, right? I mean, he gets them too. I hope. _

Leon's chin was resting on Cloud's shoulder, and he could literally feel the blonde's face heating up. He was forced to squash the almost irresistible urge to grind himself up against his backside. That wouldn't end well.

They'd left downtown and were now traveling through the well-groomed lawns of middle-class suburbia. Until yesterday Leon had hardly been aware the place even existed. Apart from the mansions on the coast, he'd always assumed that the entirety of the island's population lived in the noisy downtown apartments. But this area looked like the kind of place you had a wife, a picket fence, and 2.5 kids.

Aeris' house was on a road called Walnut Way, which had to be the most idiotic street name anyone could come up with. When you started naming things after nuts, you knew it was time to start branching out. Whatever happened to good old numbers—1st Street, 2nd Street? Seemed much more dignified to Leon.

The house itself was a big confection of white siding and red brick, the roof sloping out to create a covered porch. There was a bench-swing looking out over the garden and a flowering potted plant beside the door. Leon hadn't really bothered to imagine where the recent object of his affections used to live, but now that he was seeing this, it didn't seem right somehow. Cloud seemed more like the two room loft apartment guy, the kind with the shower in the kitchen and the bed pushed into the corner of the living room, and a bunch of guys sitting around singing about how they can't pay the rent. Alright, maybe that was the theatre director in him, but still.

"Nice place," he commented blandly.

Cloud rolled his eyes, turning off the engine and kicking down the little stand that would prevent the bike from toppling onto its side. "Aeris had this house when we started dating, I didn't have anything to do with it."

"Well, that's a load off my mind," Leon commented. "I was starting to worry you weren't as manly as I'd thought."

Cloud laughed, starting up the little white gravel path. He glanced back a moment later, looking pointedly at the bulge in Leon's pants. "I don't really know if it's the best idea to walk in on Aeris looking like that."

"Looking like what?" Leon smirked. "Male? She not used to that from you?"

He expected Cloud to color, but he just gave him a long-suffering glare. Most likely he was steeling himself for what they would meet inside. Leon couldn't blame him.

"No, I just think it might be hard—." He swallowed, and it almost looked like he was struggling not to laugh. "Might be _difficult _for her to keep her eyes on your face."

Leon grinned back. "Glad to know your girlfriend's got an ounce of libido. The way you talk about her you'd think she was fucking Mt. Everest." He caught up to Cloud at the bottom of the porch steps. "What's the problem, Strife. Aeris not used to a big man?"

Cloud looked up at him through his bangs. "Are you implying something?"

Leon arched and eyebrow. "Maybe."

A tiny grin was tugging at Cloud's lips. He shook his head, climbing the three steps to the porch. "I wouldn't imply too much, Leonhart. It might come back to bite you in the ass."

Leon put a hand on the screen door, preventing him from opening it. "Are you suggesting we compare?" he asked, lips inches from Cloud's ear. He thought he saw a fine shiver run through his shoulders, but he could have been wrong.

"I didn't say that," the blonde said, and the light-heartened trill had left his voice. He pulled the screen door open and fit his key in the lock.

"Your girlfriend keeps the door locked when she'd home?" Leon asked incredulously.

Cloud shrugged. "She's cautious."

"More like paranoid," Leon muttered.

Cloud pushed the door open, revealing a dim foyer, the afternoon light having moved into another part of the house. The floor was dark wood-grain, and the banister matched, flying along a long flight of stairs leading up to the second floor. Cloud started down the corridor, past the stairs and deeper into the house.

They emerged in a good-sized kitchen with a big rectangular window above the sink, letting in the waning light. The curtains were light blue, matching the delicate color of the wall. There was a single plate and glass sitting in the drying rack. The appliances were all very shiny and new-looking, as if they'd all been replaced in the last few months. Leon barely had a moment to take this in, before a shriek ran through the room, going straight to his diminishing headache. Well, it had been diminishing a moment ago.

Now, now it was coming back.

"Cloud!"

Cloud spun around, and there was a look in his eyes akin to a cornered animal. Something came hurtling into the room, a pink and brown blur, attaching itself to Cloud and burying it's face into his chest.

"Come on, Aeris," Cloud said, patting the blur awkwardly on the back. "It's okay."

The blur slowly raised its head, and it turned out to be a woman with brown eyes and light brown hair tied up in a pink ribbon. She was pretty, in a rather traditional, homey kind of way. She was dressed in a black business woman's skirt and a pink blouse, and she was wearing a pair of pumps. Leon thought that was kind of odd, inside her own house and all.

She clasped Cloud's face between hands decorated by fake pink fingernails. "God, Cloud. Where have you been? I've been so worried!" She kissed him, hard and forceful. Strife just sort of stood there, like a block of wood, waiting until she was finished. It didn't take her very long to realize he wasn't kissing back.

She pulled away, face tinged slightly pink around the ears. "Cloud?" she said cautiously. "Is everything okay? I was so worried, I couldn't find you!" Her voice was thick with tears suddenly, so suddenly that Leon couldn't help thinking they were forced. "I tried to call you but that absolute jerk of a director wouldn't let me talk to you!" Her expression had turned ugly now, and Leon couldn't suppress a chuckle, which he managed to turn into a rasping cough.

Aeris seemed to finally notice there was someone else there besides her beloved boyfriend. "Cloud…" She looked up at him, which was saying something, as Cloud had to be under 5'8''. She couldn't have been more than 5'2''. Too small for Leon's taste, even if he had liked girls. If the female element had attracted him, he'd probably have gone for something with a little something more to hold on to.

"Cloud, who's this?"

Cloud opened his mouth, but Leon thought he had this one.

"I'm Mr. Leonhart, ma'am," he said serenely. "I believe you know me as 'that absolute jerk of a director."

Aeris' eyes widened. "Cloud, honey, this is the guy you've been staying with?"

Cloud nodded. "Yeah, Aeris. This is Squall Leonhart, my boss."

Leon offered a hand. "A pleasure to meet you."

Aeris had let go of Cloud, and she was slowly advancing on Leon, but she didn't look like she wanted to shake his hand. More like she wanted to kick him in the face.

"You're the man who checked Cloud out of the hospital! You're the one who's been, been fucking with my boyfriend!" She cursed with the air of someone who didn't do it too often, so when they did it was meant to be a big deal.

Leon felt his mouth turn up in a grin and he was about to respond, about to tell Aeris how much he'd _love _to be fucking with her boyfriend, but the look on Cloud's face stopped him. He had the air of a man watching an impending train wreck—he knew it was going to happen, but he just wanted to be as far away from the tracks as possible.

So Leon just said. "Yeah, if you say so. I was the one who signed Cloud out of the hospital. He asked me to, Miss…"

"Gainsborough," Aeris snapped, as if it was something everyone should know.

"Miss Gainsborough," Leon continued. "Like I told you on the phone, the hospital can't hold anyone in the psychiatric ward that hasn't been declared legally insane."

Aeris' pale little fists were balled, and both men were surprised to see she was shaking. "You're the reason Cloud didn't come home!" she yelled, voice reverberating around the spotless kitchen.

Leon shook his head, a great oak amidst the roaring wind. "No, I was the one who _allowed _Cloud to stay in my apartment. He was the one who chose not to come home."

Aeris glanced back at the blonde. He looked slightly sick to his stomach, but he was standing his ground, nodding. "He's right, Aeris. I didn't want to come home." He dropped his eyes to the ground. "This isn't my home anymore."

Leon couldn't see Aeris' face, but he was sure her reaction must have been violent, because Cloud was looking worse than ever. He had a sudden burning desire to whisk the blonde out of this place, play the knight in shining armor. As if.

Aeris was slowly turning to Leon. "You know Cloud is sick, right? Are you prepared to deal with that? Can you take care of him?"

"He doesn't need to be taken care of!" Leon said, a lot more forcibly than he'd originally planned to. "There is absolutely nothing wrong with him. So he likes a little teeth and nails thrown in with his sex. So what?"

Aeris seemed to be at a loss for words. Her eyes were wide and her pink lips were trembling. Leon couldn't tell if she was about to cry or about to start screaming. He wasn't really sure which one he would prefer.

"It's sick," she spat. "You don't know. You don't know the things he wants to do! He was cutting himself, he was cutting himself and…"

"Jacking it?" Leon asked silkily.

Aeris looked insulted.

Cloud made a noise that could have been horror or amusement. When he spoke his voice was clean of either emotion. "I'm going to pack some clothes, Leon. Don't tear each other apart."

He left, heading back toward the foyer and the steps. Leon wanted to follow him, but he was sure he wouldn't appreciate it. Instead he settled for letting his eyes rove over absolutely everything in the kitchen besides the irate woman standing in front of him. He seriously wanted to get the fuck out of here before things got awkward. Well, more awkward.

He could feel Aeris' eyes on him, and after a minute or two he looked back her way.

"Can I help you with something?"

She wrapped her arms around her chest, like she was cold. As if Leon's presence was a personal affront to her. "Are you gay?"

"Yes," Leon answered without hesitation. "Do we have to add homophobia to your list of insecurities?" It was a low blow and he knew there had been no reason to say it, but he just couldn't resist. This woman made it so damn easy.

She threw him an extremely dirty look. "No, I'm not homophobic," she snapped. "I was just wondering if Cloud knows he's moving in with a gay guy."

"He does."

"And he's okay with that? Why?"

Leon shrugged. "How the hell should I know? I don't know the inner workings of Strife's brain any better than you do"

Aeris stuck out an accusatory finger. "But you still think you can take care of him better than I can."

Leon let out a long-suffering sigh. "No, Miss Gainsborough, I don't, because he doesn't need anyone to take care of him. He's a grown up. If he wants to move in with another man, he can. If he wants to take part in a kinky BDSM orgy, he can."

"How can you…how can…" Aeris had to stop to compose herself. "How can you think something like that, something so, so _vile _is normal?"

"You mean actual S/M play, or just Cloud's masochism in general?"

"Both, all of it," Aeris answered, as if the words were too dirty for her mouth.

"It's not normal," Leon said, helping himself to a seat at the kitchen table. "But there's nothing wrong with it. There is a big following of safe and consensual S and M, and if that's the way Strife likes it, than more power to him."

Aeris remained standing. "Are you into…that stuff?"

Leon shrugged noncommittally. "I like a little pain with my pleasure, but it's not a driving kink for me like it is for Cloud. He gets off on it." He smirked at the look on Aeris' face.

"So…you'll indulge this little perversion?"

"If he lets me."

"Cloud isn't gay," Aeris said. It sounded like she was grasping for lifeline."I wasn't until five years ago. All it takes is someone to change your mind." He chuckled darkly. "And if there's anyone who's mind needs changing, it's your ex-boyfriend. His ass is much too delicious to be doing anything but taking it." He winked, letting a hand wander down to his crotch, which still had yet to return to its unexcited state.

Aeris looked entirely disgusted. She stalked out of the kitchen without a backward glance. A couple minutes later Cloud sidled back into the room with a backpack.

"It really doesn't carry much," he said, giving it a little shake. "But it occurred to me I wouldn't be able to bring a suitcase on my bike."

Leon laughed. "Very astute of you." He stood up. "Shall we go?"

Cloud took a furtive glance over his shoulder. "What did you do to Aeris?"

Leon took the backpack, slinging it over his shoulder. "Nothing a little therapy won't cure."

* * *

I think this one was longer than the last one. Hell. Anyway, you're all gonna have to wait till the next chapter to find out about Cloud's date with Sephiroth, and about the new character Leon got the email from!

Oh, and just a request. If you favorite/alert this story, I'd really _reeaallly _appreciate it if you left a review, even if it's just short and sweet. Now that has a new function that sends you a notice about who favorite/alerts, I can know who does it and doesn't leave a review. I can voodoo curse you all! Muahahha!

Just kidding, but you know how it is. Reviews are my antidrug.

Oh, and I have a story up about Sephiroth and Cloud in a shower and it'd be cool if some of you guys would read and review is, since nobody seems to have noticed it...

Love you guys!!!!


	15. With a Little Help from my Friends

Disclaimer: I can't come up with anything witty. My wit has exhausted for the day. Ack. Yeah, I don't own it.

Oh my fucking god, guys. Sixty reviews on chapter fourteen?? Thank you, thank you, thank you!!!! I'm so glad you guys like it!

Yeah, so okay…these chapters are getting longer and longer. I have so many goddamn sub-plots all coming together it just takes so much time to feature all of them in a chapter. Hopefully, I'll fit everything in.

Chapter 15

With a Little Help from my Friends

* * *

Out in the open air and away from Aeris' hysterical presence, Leon was unable to keep his laughter bottled up. He threw his head back, shoulders shaking with the effort. It spilled out in disjointed chuckles and choking snorts.

Cloud looked back over his shoulder, pale eyebrows arched. "Is something funny or do I need to perform the Heimlich?"

Leon shook his head, fighting to get his guffaws under control. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to be insensitive, but that was just…"

"Utterly ridiculous?" Cloud supplied, swinging a leg up over his bike and fishing out his keys.

"You weren't even there for the best part," Leon told him as the engine roared to life.

"What was the best part?" Cloud asked in a tone that suggested he wasn't really sure if he wanted to know.

Leon just grinned, mounting the bike behind Cloud and slipping his arms around his stomach. He tensed for just a moment, like last time, but then relaxed, knocking down the kickstand and putting the bike in gear. They set off along the quiet streets of suburbia, headed back to the apartment downtown.

Leon couldn't help heaving a contented sigh as they slowed for a stop sign. He currently had his arms wrapped around the object of his desires, nuzzling his nose against the curve of his neck, and there was absolutely nothing Strife could do about it. Outside of pitching Leon off onto the road, at least. He had to practice great self control not to press his lips to the little bit of skin at the nape of Cloud's neck. He was so warm.

"Is riding behind me on a motorcycle really that exciting?" Cloud called over the roar of the engine.

"Huh?" Leon asked. "Oh…" He was rock hard again. "Maybe."

Cloud shook his head, rumbling back through the city limits. It was getting on toward dark now and the street lights were coming on, spilling little pools of yellow light on the asphalt. Cloud's hair shown with a hundred different shades of gold as they passed through the glow, and Leon was struck once again by just how beautiful this man was. No wonder someone like Aeris had scooped him up—she seemed more interested in a trophy than a boyfriend. Strife was definitely trophy material.

Traffic was heavier the further down Mainstreet they rode—commuters heading back over the bridge from Hollow Bastion, the closest industrial city. Leon had gone to University there with all intention of making it his home, but then he'd heard of a managing job at a theatre on Destiny Island. He'd most likely turn into a starving artist, but it sounded better than an office gig, so he took it.

_And I'm glad I did too,_ he thought as the bike slowed down for a red light. _Otherwise Cloud never would have escaped from Miss Vicious Bitch. _

The light turned green and Cloud put on the gas. Leon, who's grip had been slackening, nearly flew off the back. He managed to cling on at the last moment, grabbing at Cloud's chest, hands scrabbling over his pectorals. He felt the blonde shiver. Leon opened his mouth to ask what was wrong, before he realized Cloud's nipples had become hard, pebbly nubs underneath his touch.

Before he even realized what he was doing, his fingertips began to massage in slow, lazy circles. It seemed natural to him—this man he was so desperately smitten with. He pressed a little harder, Cloud's breath coming in gasps. He was nearly shuddering, knuckles white on the handlebars.

"L-Leon, stop! Stop, I'm…I'll crash!"

Leon let go like he'd been stung, almost sliding the fuck off the back all over again. He gripped his shoulders instead, filled with a desire to hit himself over the head for what he'd just done. Strife had been talking to him, joking with him, maybe even finally beginning to trust him, and he'd had to go and fuck it up. From the place he was perched on the back of the bike, he couldn't see the blonde's expression, but he could see the red tinge around his ears.

Neither of them spoke another word until they'd rumbled into the parking lot, Cloud nosing his motorcycle into one of the empty visitor's spots. He killed the engine. Leon didn't know what to do, so he just sat there, knees still hugging the blonde' hips and hands still clamped to his shoulders.

Cloud inclined his head slightly, turning to reveal one brilliant blue eye. His blonde spikes were drooping slightly from the wind and his cheeks were still a bit pink. He looked irresistible. It would have been an easy thing for Leon to clear the last few inches between them and press his lips to Cloud's parted ones. So easy to relieve this ache for this strange, sad soul. For a moment, the temptation was almost to much, and he had to turn away, standing up and pacing from the bike.

"What's wrong?" Cloud asked wildly. He looked confused, as if he wasn't sure what had just happened.

"Just forget it, Cloud," Leon said, fists clenched, shaking dark hair over his face. In a bizarre reversal of roles he suddenly felt like the one who needed to hide, to stare at the ground. The asphalt beneath his feet was cracked and stained grey from the decades of tires and tropical storms.

"I'm not angry…or anything…" Cloud tailed off, sounding helpless. "It was kind of a shock, and I was driving—."

"Yeah, okay," Leon said. "Don't you have a date or something?"

"Not a date…" Cloud began. He sounded doubtful himself. "Sephiroth just wants to convince me to work for him."

Leon snorted his disbelief, looking back over his shoulder. Cloud was standing beside his bike, that scared-animal expression back on his face.

"I thought you worked for me," Leon said quietly. He turned away, walking briskly to the white and brick building. He wasn't running away, just retreating. For now.

* * *

"Are you sure this is okay?" Roxas asked, staring doubtfully up at the sandstone wall. There was a cast-iron gate separating the apartment complex from the street, a cast iron gate that Axel pushed open and confidently strode through.

Alright, apartment complex wasn't the best phrase for it. More like _apartment palace. _

The Rabanastre Apartments were the priciest, swankiest, most snottily perfect place on Destiny Islands. Outside of the mansions on the coast, it was the most expensive place to hold real estate. Just inside the gate was a guard box with a large square window, through which a stocky, muscle-bound man was currently glaring at them.

"Can I help you boys?" he asked over a smooth intercom, not a trace of static on the line. Axel sauntered over the box, leaning over to speak through the little hole between the glass and the brick. It seemed the intercom became unnecessary, as Roxas could suddenly no longer hear the guard's voice.

He turned his eyes away from the conversation (which seemed mainly to comprise of Axel shoving an ID in the guard's face) to focus instead on the grandeur of the front lawn. Most apartment buildings didn't have front lawns—they had large stretches of cement parking lots, but Rabanastre was no ordinary place. Though it was small, the expanse of grass was rich green and manicured. A white marble fountain stood in the center, a little angel spitting out a jet of water into a bubbling wishing well. A quartet of red rose bushes stood around the fountain like sentinels, snipped down to only the choicest blooms. Roxas couldn't help thinking that if only the plants had been able to grow wild, the effect would have much more welcoming.

The grounds were strangely empty for six thirty at night, weekday or not. There was no sound but the rush of the fountain and the buzz of Axel's voice, now raised in anger.

He heard the last few words quite distinctly: "Yeah, well, fuck you and others like you, cocksucker."

Axel turned on his heel, striding back to Roxas and slipping him a grin. "I showed the fucker. Come on, let's go."

Though the Rabanastre apartments were by all means swanky, there was no lobby. The separate flats were in four different buildings, loosely joined by a distinctly odd flavor of architecture. To Roxas they looked like gleaming white temples, wrought of sandstone and marble. The highest building rose up fifteen stories; one of the tallest structures on Destiny Island, and it was toward this that Axel marched, looking for all the world like he owned the place.

"Who the hell do you know that lives here?" Roxas asked for about the eighteenth time. "I mean, I know your parents have money…"

"Not my parents," Axel called back. He trudged up a path of artfully arranged stepping stones, stopping at a pair of glass sliding doors. It took Roxas a moment to realize they didn't lead to a room as he had expected, but to a mirror-lined elevator, giving him the impression, as he stepped inside, that he'd been coaxed into a prison of glass.

The control panel inside had fifteen buttons, fourteen of which were lit up, and a metal keypad, blinking with a pulsing red light.

"Okay, okay, input code," Axel muttered to himself, running his fingers through his hair and making it stand wildly on end. "He told me this…uh, six, four, eight." He punched the buttons with his knuckles. "Four—shit!" The light flashed faster. Roxas got the distinct impression it meant WRONG!

"Alright, not it. How about four, six, four, eight…yeah, that's it! Fuck yes!" he declared as the keypad flashed green and the fifteenth button, the one marked PH lit up.

"PH?" Roxas repeated. "As in, acidity and alkalinity?"

Axel cocked an eyebrow. "Or as in penthouse, maybe?"

"Oh," Roxas mumbled, feeling like a moron. "Yeah." He stared at the ground for a few seconds, before looking back up wildly. "Wait, _penthouse?_"

Axel just gave him a secretive smile, green eyes shining with expectation. "Yup."

The elevator dinged open. The fifteenth floor lobby was nothing more than a short stretch of white-walled hallway. The door at the end boasted a gold knocker and knob, and a nameplate about eye level.

_Shinra _

"Shinra?" Roxas pronounced. "What the hell's a Shinra?"

"Nothing we'll have to deal with, if we're lucky," Axel answered, striding up to the door and knocking three times.

Several seconds elapsed in which Roxas just stood there, rocking on his heels anxiously. Then there was a bang and what sounded like a whole lot of plastic things falling on top of each other, followed by an outbreak of vigorous swearing. Roxas glanced at Axel, but he didn't seem to be at all perturbed. On the contrary, his face broke out in another one of those ridiculous grins.

The front door was wrenched violently open, reveling someone who didn't exactly match a swanky Rabanastre penthouse. In fact, he barely even matched a low-rent apartment. He was pale and disheveled, his clothes hanging on him like he'd slept in them. A square bottle of something clear and undoubtedly alcoholic was in one hand, a cigarette in the other. His hair was alarmingly red, pulled back from his face sloppily. All in all, he would have looked like a complete bum—if it hadn't been for the eyes. They were very green and piercingly intelligent, but it was a kind of intelligence you would only detect if you were familiar with it.

Roxas was quite familiar with it. In face, this guy looked a hell of a lot like—

"Axel?" the guy said disbelievingly. "Jesus fucking Christ, what the hell are you doing here?"

Axel laughed. "Not much, bro. Just here to beg on your doorstep."

"Wait a minute," Roxas said. "Bro? Ax, is this your—?"

"Brother," the two of them finished together, sporting identical looks of mild annoyance at being upstaged. Roxas just had to laugh. Never in all his musings had he ever imagined there could be more than one Axel. Good god.

"This is my big brother Reno," Axel informed him. "Ain't he a sight for sore eyes?"

Roxas just laughed, attracting Reno's turn slightly inebriated gaze his way. "And you are?"

"This is Roxas," Axel cut in. "So can we come in, bro, or are you gonna make us chill in the hallway all night?"

Reno stepped back, allowing the two boys entrance. The penthouse was wide and open. The furniture was all dark leather, the tables glass and steel. White carpeting stretched wall to wall, fans rotated slowly over their heads. A sleek black bar took up the space in front of the back wall, which was one huge window.

Axel let out a slow whistle. "God dammit. Rufus's do'in well for himself, huh?"

"Yep," Reno nodded, taking a swig from the bottle and tossing it to his brother.

"Who's Rufus?" Roxas asked, as Reno proceeded to sprawl himself across one of the leather couches.

"Boss," he grunted. "Rich, important son of a bitch." He said it with more fondness than accusation.

"Reno's the bodyguard for a big-ass businessman," Axel elaborated, making a face as he gulped down a swallow of the contents of the bottle. "Shit, what the hell is this?"

"Mystery concoction," Reno said with a grin.

"Whatever." Axel chucked the bottle back.

Reno caught it, laughed, tossed back a swig, and said, "So why the hell are you visiting little old me? Wasn't I disowned?"

Axel shrugged. "Something more we got in common. Me too."

Reno raised an eyebrow. Roxas suddenly realized what he'd thought were stray pieces of hair were in fact tattoos, curving along Reno's cheeks with the slope of his eyes. At least, he thought they were tattoos. Might have been scars.

Axel and Roxas sat down opposite the disheveled bodyguard. Axel looked at home, sprawling out much like his brother had done, lanky limbs all over the place. "One hell of a place, bro."

Reno shrugged "Kinda dull when the boss ain't here. Rude and Elena are with him. My partners," he added for Roxas' benefit. "But enough about me. Why're you here, Ax?"

"Mom and Dad kicked me out of the house," Axel said, putting his feet up on the table. "They don't like my choice of life partner."

Reno took another swig of his mystery concoction. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Axel jerked his head in Roxas' direction. Almost as an afterthought, he reached out, giving his thigh a little squeeze. Reno raised a brow. "Oh." He blinked. "Well, dammit, Ax. You, a queer. Who'da thought?"

"You like guys," Axel said, a defensive tinge to his voice.

Reno shrugged. "Yeah, but only 50 of the time, little bro. I still go for the ladies every once in awhile."

-------

"Dammit," Roxas breathed, approximately three-quarters of an hour later when he and Axel had adjourned to one of the penthouse guest rooms. "He's a fucking breath of fresh air."

"That's Reno for ya," Axel chuckled, flopping down on the big feather bed, spreading his legs and arms. "But dammit, does his boss have a nice place."

"So he's a bodyguard, huh?" Roxas mused, shoving Axel over and burrowing down under the blankets. "That's gotta be an interesting gig."

Axel adjusted his position until Roxas fit comfortably under his arm, head pillowed on his chest. "Yeah. My parent's got pretty damn pissed when he told them he wanted to run off with some blonde corporate brat. Apparently bodyguard isn't one of the esteemed professions."

"Whatever," Roxas murmured. "Adults are idiots. When I was younger I always thought that when you turned eighteen, became a grown up, everything would be miraculously made clear. But I don't think that's how it is."

"Nope." Axel shook his head. "That's not how it is."

"Thanks for finding us somewhere to stay, Ax," Roxas muttered into his neck.

"Don't worry about it. Reno doesn't give a shit. Besides, we need somewhere to store your red meat and green leafy vegetables."

Roxas chuckled, running a hand down Axel's skinny frame, coming to rest between his legs. "You're hard," he grinned, pressing down lightly.

Axel's breath caught. "Suck me off?"

To his surprise, Roxas shook his head. "Nope. I'm gonna watch you touch yourself."

Axel raised a fiery eyebrow. "Are you now?"

Roxas smirked. "Yeah. Just make sure you think about me when you do it."

Axel was already struggling out of his jeans and chucking them off the bed. "What was it exactly that Reno said?"

"He said 'go ahead and fuck, but you're washing the sheets'."

"Right. I think we can handle that." Axel lay back down, hot erection exposed to the chill of air conditioning. He shivered, goose bumps breaking out on his arms. Roxas was perched at the foot of his bed, arms crossed. He made an impatient noise in his throat.

The redhead licked his palm, wrapping a hand around his dick, and sucking in a breath. It occurred to him he hadn't masturbated in a couple of weeks—a personal record for him. It felt fucking incredible today thought, the fact that Roxas was watching making it infinitely better. He moaned loudly (more for Roxas' benefit than his own) squeezing and stroking, thumb rubbing firmly against the sensitive head.

"Sexy," Roxas purred approvingly. He was almost panting—watching had turned him on a lot more than he'd thought it would.

Axel's other hand snaked down, rubbing at his balls and the base of his cock. Climax was building up in him almost embarrassingly quickly. He arched his back, groaning, both hands working his shaft now. His jerks became more erratic, and he came in his hand with a stifled yell.

Roxas was in his arms a moment later, kissing his neck and chest. "Let me fuck you…" he mumbled.

Axel grinned. "If you insist."

* * *

Yuffie elbowed open the door to the dingy lobby, wrinkling her nose as the familiar scent of mildew assaulted her senses. It was so dim in here she might have been stepping inside a cave. Cave, motel, there wasn't really much difference when you thought about it. No mini-bar, no cable, and bugs all over the damn place.

She gave a half-hearted wave to the manager behind the counter as she crossed toward the hallway, an old wispy haired man missing one of his front teeth. The two of them had seen a great deal of each other over the past two days, what with the frequency of Yuffie's visits.

Skirting a pile of what might have been dirty clothes but was more likely someone passed out, she walked down the hall, digging a key out of her pocket and slipping it into the lock of room 9. It took a great deal of jiggling, but eventually the lock clicked, the door swinging inwards.

The room was dark, the curtains drawn and the old air-conditioning unit rattling in the window. There was just one bed, occupied by a man sprawled on his stomach, arms and wings limp with sleep. Yes wings, huge, feathery black wings. His hair was tossed about his pale shoulders, his face turned toward the wall.

Yuffie dropped her messenger bag down on the floor. Carefully, she moved one of the wings aside so she could sit down on the edge of the bed, marveling at the easy strength in that fragile-looking appendage. The wing twitched as she set it back down, brushing against her arms and making her shiver.

Vincent's coloring still wasn't quite healthy, but he looked better than he had after their miraculous escape from the hospital. The two of them had landed in a park a few miles away, Vincent collapsing to the ground as soon as they touched down. He was exhausted and the wounds on his chest had started to bleed again.

She'd freaked out, shaken from the fact that her tutor could fucking _fly, _but Vincent's insistence that he had to find some place to sleep, somewhere safe, had shaken her back to her senses. The motel had been the closest place, but Yuffie had been concerned about the wings. How do you walk into a skuzzy motel, supporting a pale, wounded, winged man? You don't.

But she needn't have worried, because the wings had disappeared shortly after they landed, Vincent muttering that he could 'hold them in' for a few minutes. As soon as they'd paid for a motel room (out of Yuffie's wallet) he'd collapsed onto the bed, the wings reappearing in a flurry of feathers. That had been on Monday afternoon, and now it was Wednesday, and Vincent had yet to wake up. Still, he was breathing and his heartbeat was regular as far as Yuffie could tell. Better than that, the wounds on his stomach and chest were all but healed, barely even leaving scars.

He sighed in his sleep, face tensing up and wings rustling, before settling back down. Unable to resist, Yuffie reached out a tentative hand, brushing the hair away from the nape of his neck. The great black wings sprang seamlessly from his back, looking as if they had always been there, as if they were meant to be there. There was a small expanse of skin between the two wings, just enough space for her to lay her hand.

Vincent stirred a bit, the muscles on his pale back rippling like water. Yuffie had a burning desire to straddle his hips and run her tongue along the hard planes of his back and spine. She managed to resist the urge, instead choosing to rub her palm along his shoulder blades and between the wings.

He shivered, making a sound low in his throat. His wings stiffened, stretching out and just narrowly avoiding clipping Yuffie on the shoulder.

"Jesus Christ," she muttered. "What the fuck are you, Vinny?"

"Not Vinny," came the slightly muffled groan. "Anything but Vinny." He'd turned his head, staring up at her through the mess of hair. "How are you?"

"Hey, I get to ask that," Yuffie countered. "I'm not the one who sprouted wings and then proceeded to sleep for two days."

Vincent went into a stretch, body arching up off the bed, wings opening to their fullest extent. He had one hell of a wingspan. Nine feet, at least.

"Two days," he mused, folding his wings and tucking them up against his back. He could now turn onto his side without crushing his fragile, feathery extremities. "Was I really out of it that long?"

Yuffie nodded. "Yep. You were."

Vincent fought back a sleepy yawn, squinting around the sorry excuse for a room. He took in the sight of the stained curtains and slightly singed lamp without the slightest sign of distaste, however. "Where are we? I don't…remember."

"Some seedy motel," Yuffie answered. "Near the boardwalk." She grinned sheepishly. "It was about as far as I could lug you before you passed out."

Vincent caught her hand. "Thank you, Yuffie. Thank you a million times over." His fingers were long and elegant, so pale they nearly glowed in the semi-darkness. Slowly, they twined with hers. "You saved my life. Twice."

Yuffie didn't know what to say. Her heart seemed to be working on overdrive, and her brain seemed to have forgotten how to function. No guy had ever affected her this way before.

As if suddenly reaching some decision, Vincent sat up at the waist, pulling Yuffie against him. She tripped, knees hitting the edge of the mattress to much protesting of springs. Vincent's chest was smooth and warm against her bare arms. Yuffie had time for one thought—_he's gonna kiss me—_before he ran fingers through her short, choppy hair, pulling her the rest of the way down.

There was nothing timid about it, nothing hesitant like the boys at school, who seemed scared to even move their damn tongues—so afraid of getting it wrong. Vincent all but crushed her mouth to his, groaning softly as her lips parted. True, it was wet and rather clumsy, but as kisses went it was one of the better ones she'd had. This, of course, made no sense, because Vincent's breath was stale, his stubble rough against her face. It shouldn't have been good at all.

But as his tongue twisted with hers, Yuffie couldn't think of anywhere she'd rather be. Their lips parted after a few moments, the two of them gulping down air, equally shocked.

"You can't distract me," Yuffie said against his lips.

"What?" came his low rumble of a response. She brought a hand up to rub a thumb against the place his throat vibrated when he spoke. He jerked slightly, ticklish.

"I mean, you can't distract me with this," she told him softly. "You're still gonna have to explain the mutant-man thing."

Vincent laughed, scarlet eyes burning as he looked down at her. "I promise."

* * *

Leon had about five precious minutes to mope, before his cell phone began to vibrate earnestly in his hip pocket. He glanced at the name on the screen, grunted in annoyance, and flipped it open.

"Hello."

"Ah, my dear Squall. How wonderful it is to hear your sexy rumble of a voice."

"Stuff it, Balthier."

The man on the other line laughed. "Got your email. I believe you have some questions for me?"

Leon kissed his pride goodbye. "I need some…advice."

"Advice? I'm intrigued. Meet you at a quarter to seven."

-----------

The café was one of those generic, touristy establishments on the west shore of the island, about fifteen minutes from the theatre. Luridly bright umbrellas overshadowed the tables, and a jaunty tropical tune saturated the air like muzak. It was just the sort of ostentatiously innocent dive Balthier would arrange to meet at. He was one rich son of a bitch, yet he seemed unable to break out of his humble roots.

He was already there when Leon arrived, tipped back in a plastic chair, smoking a cigarette as he gazed out across the beach. There was a blonde boy there as well, sitting beside Balthier and looking dubiously over one of the shabbily laminated menus.

As Leon approached he heard the boy as, "Is any of this stuff edible?"

Balthier blew out a long plume of smoke. "Not remotely. Have anything you like." He glanced up, grin quirking the corner of his mouth. He gestured to the seat across from him.

"Squall, such a pleasure. Have a seat, try something. It's all equally horrid."

Leon gave a little half-smile in response. Balthier was one of the few people in this world who could call him Squall and live to talk about it. The man was in his early-twenties, with short brown hair styled into a choppy, rather windswept look. He was fairly short, not much taller than Cloud was (Leon hadn't failed to notice that Cloud had become a base for comparison in his head over the last week) and had a tan dark enough to suggest he spent much of his time in the sun. His features were strong and sculpted, and his eyes were deep chocolate brown. They were eyes that promised a million different things, most of them pleasurable, none of them proper.

"How long's it been then, mate?"

"Not long enough," Leon said, though it didn't have much bite to it.

"Still as feisty as ever, I see," Balthier chuckled. "So tell me, Squally, what can a humble man such as myself do for you?"

Leon felt a muscle spasm in his jaw. "Squall' I put up with out of respect for all the shit you have on me, and the things you could do if the mood took you. 'Squally' is going too far." This made Balthier laugh, a deep, musical sound meant to charm and arouse. Leon couldn't help noticing the way the blonde looked at him, the admiration in those blue eyes.

"What's with the kid?" Leon asked. "The last time I saw you it was older women, not underage boys."

'The kid' frowned. The expression created lines around his eyes and shadows that hadn't been there before. Leon kicked his age up from sixteen to eighteen, at the very least.

"I'm not a kid," he said simply. "And I'm not underage." He sounded perfectly confident, and Leon didn't see any reason to push the matter.

"This is Vaan," Balthier said, not without warmth. "Isn't he gorgeous?"

Vaan punched the man in the arm, though he looked pleased with himself.

"Yeah," Leon said gruffly. "Definitely, but I've got my own goddamn blonde to deal with at the moment."

"Oh?" Balthier inquired, lighting another cigarette. "And is this what you've arranged to talk about? Surely the great Squall Leonhart doesn't need relationship advice, and from the likes of me?"

"Yeah, I do," Leon said, suddenly unsure about how to proceed. If it had just been Balthier, he wouldn't have tried to mince words, but with the little boyfriend…

Balthier took a long drag on the cigarette. "Anything you want to say can be said in front of Vaan. Isn't that right, love?"

Vaan, who had gone back to perusing the menu, nodded vaguely.

Leon snorted, but he decided, what the hell. "The guy I'm interested in is a closeted masochist, and he's one insecure son of a bitch. I was wondering if you had any advice."

Balthier cocked a pierced eyebrow. "Why are you asking me?"

"Don't fuck with me," Leon said moodily. It was hot out here and his hair was beginning to stick to the back of his neck. "I know you're into all that deviant shit."

Vaan let out a little yip of laughter. Balthier tapped his cigarette on the edge of an ashtray shaped like a lopsided seashell. "Squall, you wound me. I'm a pirate. It stands to reason that I'd come across a few odd individuals with atypical kinks."

"And that some of those kinks would rub off."

"Rub being the operative word," Balthier supplied coyly. "But you're right. I am into, as you so aptly named, 'that deviant shit'."

It was then that the aproned waitress took the opportunity to finally mosey up. Balthier ordered a rum and coke, Vaan an ice cream concoction with an obnoxiously chipper name. Leon got a coffee. He felt like he could do with some caffeine.

As Balthier reached into his elegant open-necked shirt to produce his ID (the waitress didn't seem convinced he was legal, maybe it was all the piercings) Leon couldn't help but notice the mottling of purple bruises across his wrist. It looked as if he had been recently tied up. Somehow, Leon didn't think it was a result of one of his extracurricular activities. But then again, Balthier played a dangerous game.

When he'd mentioned he was a pirate, he hadn't been cracking a joke. That was exactly what he was. He was part of an international organization, running everything from guns to drugs to bootleg films. He'd always managed to keep his tight little ass out of jail, but in that line of business there were worse things than the authorities. Balthier sailed in dangerous circles, played with treacherous people.

"So, tell me about this bloke," Balthier prompted, after the waitress had shimmered off and he'd tucked his wallet safely back inside his shirt. Leon wasn't exactly sure if the ID had been authentic, but the waitress seemed fine with it. "What's he look like?"

Leon rotated his shoulders, feeling his tendons crack. "Uh…well, he's blonde."

"As you said. Anything else?"

"And…he's kind of short."

This was incredibly pathetic. Leon spent the majority of his waking time thinking about Cloud, and suddenly, when he had to describe him, he found himself unable to find the words.

_Can't do him justice, _he thought wryly.

Balthier and Vaan were surveying him with equally knowing grins, as if they knew exactly what he was struggling with, and nothing would amuse them more than watching him squirm.

"His eyes are blue. Really blue. Almost impossibly blue."

Balthier took a cheeky drag on his cigarette. "His eyes are blue. Check. Next?"

Leon cast his mind around. "His eyelashes are kind of long."

Vaan gave a little snort that he attempted to pass off as a hacking cough.

"He's muscular, he's got a great ass…fuck this." Leon slammed a fist down on the table, making the ashtray rattle. "He's sex on legs, Balthier. Happy?"

Balthier grinned roguishly, leaning back in his chair to keep Leon in his sights as the waitress set down their drinks. "All I needed to hear you say, mate." He took a sip of his rum and coke. "Now. Moving on. How old is he?"

Leon shrugged. "Not sure. Twenty-five, twenty-six."

Balthier nodded. "So about your age, then?"

"Yeah."

"Excellent. Is he gay?"

Leon shifted uncomfortably. He had been certain this little issue would come up. "Well, he says he's not."

"But you have your doubts…?" Balthier inquired.

"Yeah, I do."

Vaan and Balthier exchanged a glance. The pirate's arm crept along the table until it reached Vaan's hand, sliding up his arm. "I seem to recall something to that effect." His fingers began to make slow, lazy circles around the crook of the boy's elbow. "When I met Vaan he was chasing a certain lovely young lady. Suffice it to say, I helped take his mind off it."

"Charming," Leon said brusquely. "Really fucking romantic. But as much as I'd love to hear about your sexual excursions—."

"And what a tale they are…" Balthier interjected.

Leon glared over the rim of his coffee cup. "I was wondering how the hell I'm supposed to get Cloud—the guy—to…" he trailed off unhappily, making waffling motions with his free hand.

"Embrace his sexuality?"

"Exactly," Leon answered.

Balthier flicked his cigarette thoughtfully. "It seems to me, Squally, that you've got a delicate situation here. You don't want to scare him off, but you don't want him to get snatched up. He sounds like the timid type, am I right?"

Leon laughed without an ounce of humor. "You have no idea."

"How do you know he's a masochist then? Did he volunteer the information?"

"Yeah, he did actually," Leon answered, draining the rest of his coffee. "His girlfriend had sent him to the psych ward for his little 'problem'. I got him out."

"Damn, that's awful," Vaan commented, licking at his spoonfull of ice cream. "Traumatizing."

"He's skittish, like a dog that's been abused or something," Leon said.

"Is his girlfriend, like, a beast?" Vaan asked, looking somewhere between bemused and disgusted.

Leon thought about Aeris—her neat little skirt and pristinely tied back hair. Her insistence that everything that came into her little sphere of influence was perfect. Beast?

Maybe.

"In a manner of speaking," he answered. "She was scary as hell. Especially to me."

Balthier finished up his rum and coke, drawing a hand across his lips. "I'm wondering, Squally." Squall let out a warning growl. "If you're really prepared to deal with a bloke who's so high-maintenance. I'm sure you can find loads of men who are, as you said, 'sex on legs'."

But Leon was shaking his head. "No. I don't know why—I couldn't put it into words if you asked me to, but Cloud is…"

"The one for you?" Balthier smirked.

Leon colored, a combination of anger and embarrassment. "That's not what I…"

"You care about him," Vaan said simply. "That's not a crime. It's not weakness, Squall."

"I know that." He ran his fingers through his shaggy hair, a frustrated habit he'd had since childhood. "I…want him. For more than just a fuck." There. He'd said it. What had started as crude lust for that perfect, beautiful body had become something completely different.

"The you've got to earn his trust, mate," Balthier said quietly, all jokes and teasing left behind. "Partners of any kind, especially partners who participate in any sort of dom/sub play, need to trust each other implicitly."

"Yeah, well…" Leon said moodily. "I need to get his clothes off first. I need to find a way to seduce him—."

"Into leaving women behind him?"

Leon nodded.

"It doesn't need to be anything fancy, Squall," Vaan spoke up again, glancing up at Balthier to make sure his advice was welcome. The pirate nodded. "People like…"

"Cloud," Leon supplied.

"Ooh, pretty name." Vaan smiled. "People like Cloud, who keep themselves in such rigid check, who don't let themselves experience their desires…all they need is just a little push, usually."

Leon wondered if he was understanding this properly. "So you're telling me I should just throw him on the floor and have my way with him? Maybe he'll come round?"

Vaan chuckled. "Not exactly, though sometimes that can work…" He took another little glance at Balthier, cheeks reddening. The man gave him a look that was positively devilish. "I'm saying, just touch him. Let him know that he's got someone who's willing to give him what he wants."

"You are, aren't you?" Balthier cut in. "Willing to?"

"Of course," Leon answered, and he meant it.

* * *

"Mmmm, Sora…"

Riku twisted his fingers into spiky hair, rolling his hips, sliding in and out of that delicious wet heat. "You're getting good at this."

Sora smiled, pleased with himself. His tongue flicked at the tip of Riku's penis. The long column of flesh was twitching and jerking, as the silver-haired boy attempted to hold himself in check. A few more caresses and he would explode.

"My jaw aches," Sora commented, licking a long line up the throbbing underside. "But it's more fun than it looks like."

Riku smiled at him, then threw his head back, moaning as he came. The picture he made as he lay there limp with afterglow, sweating and panting, was the reason Sora found this particular act so enjoyable. In this position—Riku propped up on a pillow with the brunette between his legs—Sora was really able to watch him, his expression, his pleasure.

"That was nice," Riku said, grinning rather stupidly. Orgasm always left him ridiculously happy If only for a few minutes, Sora was able to see his boyfriend unhindered by the weight of the world.

"What now?" he asked, as Riku ran his fingers through his sweaty hair. Lounging like this, completely naked and sated, he resembled a Greek carving—some great god of pleasure.

Riku's eyes snapped open, ocean green shining in the scant light still leaking in through the window. He looked at Sora in that way that made him squirm, both inside and out. "Now, I wanna ride you."

"Huh?" Sora managed to gasp out, before Riku pounced, pinning him on his back. He leaned in, kissing him on the cheek before sitting back up to grope a hand behind him on the bedspread.

"Where's the fucking lube?" he mumbled, making a little noise of triumph as his fingers closed over the tube. He smiled wickedly at Sora as he squeezed some into his hand, straddling his hips.

"Just give me a minute," he said quietly, reaching behind him and wincing slightly as he worked one slippery finger inside himself. Sora couldn't see what he was doing, but the expression on Riku's face was enough to make his cock throb even harder.

"Isn't it hard to do to yourself?" he asked, incredulous.

Riku laughed, but it came out as a shudder as he grazed his prostate with the tip of a finger. "So full of curiosity, aren't you?"

A moment later his hands were back in view and he was smoothing lube over Sora's length, making him gasp and wiggle his hips in anticipation. With hardly a wince, Riku lowered himself down. Their gasps mingled, Sora's fingers scrabbling over Riku's chest.

"Riku…that's…" He forced his eyes open. "Does it hurt?"

Riku's jaw was clenched, but he shook his head, giving an experimental roll of his hips. "Feels amazing."

His hips rose and fell, Sora writhing beneath him, the slick pressure almost too much to bear. He was so wrapped up in motion of it, that he didn't hear the door open.

But Riku did.

His eyes flew open and his head snapped up. He stopped moving, a slow look of anguish sliding over his face.

"Shit."

* * *

Yeah…this one's a little shorter than the last two, but I wanted to save Sephiroth and Cloud's 'date' for when I had a little more time! And this one had sex! Yay!

Just a note—I realize that I originally set this in Japan. I forgot about that part. So this is an edit: this story takes place wherever you want it to! Destiny Island! That's it!

Please leave a review if you fav/alert this story! Leave one anyway! Till next time!


	16. Psychobabble

Disclaimer: Kingdom Hearts doesn't belong to me. Dammit.

So…I'm fairly excited about this next chapter, because it features Cloud and Sephiroth's little…business meeting. I know some of you out there enjoy some CloudSeph as much as I do, and then there's those of you who absolutely hate it and are rooting for Leon. Don't worry. Everyone will be happy.

I'm really sorry this took so long to get out. I just started my freshman year of college, so things have gotten kind of busy. I'll still try to update regularly, though. Once a month, at the very least.

Chapter 16

Psychobabble

* * *

Sex.

Yes, that's right.

Like it or not, after a certain age, sex becomes the human animal's number one driving force. Before puberty it's something simple like a day at the park or another cookie.

People have done crazy things for the sake of sex—people have destroyed, murdered, and died for it. It's a dark, lascivious subject, made all the more attractive for it's all but a forbidden topic in polite society.

It would be accurate, in fact, to say humans live for sex. It is one of the few dictates of nature we must still submit to, just as the beasts do. Some people enjoy it more than others, some become addicted, others do not.

There is, however, one universally shared element in all sexual encounters across the globe. The bedroom door swinging open during the act is _not _a good thing.

Observe.

"Shit."

Riku sat frozen, one hand still entwined in Sora's hair, hips poised to slide back down his slippery cock. The shocked visage of Mrs. Pots, his elderly housekeeper, stared at him from the open door. For a moment, they just looked at each other. Then—

"Sorry, sir!" said Mrs. Pots briskly, shutting the door. Her heals clicked and clacked a swift retreat down the hall.

By this time, the boy beneath Riku seemed to have realized something was wrong. He was looking at him in confusion, his eyes unable to focus for more than a couple of seconds. Riku could understand why. Sora's legs were shaking, thighs and hips twitching in anticipation of orgasm.

"R-Riku…_please…_I need it…"

Feeling oddly disconnected, Riku rose up on his haunches, gasping as he was penetrated much deeper. Sora nearly howled, face scrunching up and fingers grasping at the tangled mess of sheets. With a few deliberate circles of his hips and some slight tensing of muscles, Riku felt Sora's climax sweep through him, slender body rippling and writhing on the blankets.

He lifted himself off almost immediately, rolling out of bed and dropping to his knees. He began sifting through the pile clothes on the carpet.

"Riku…?" Sora muttered, brain hobbled with the lethargy of afterglow.

Riku managed half a reassuring smile. "Don't worry about it, baby. I'll be right back."

He pulled on a pair of soft red pajama pants, ignoring the sticky fluid slowly beginning to seep down his thighs. He'd clean up later. Running his fingers through his hair, he left in pursuit of the housekeeper, the odd numbness still pervading his senses.

_This is the end, _he thought dully. _I'm fucked. I'm gone. No way are they going to let me keep living here once they find out. They won't pay for college, or my books, or a plane ticket….I'm just fucked. _

Riku trotted down the front steps, wincing slightly. It had been a long time since he'd let anyone do what Sora had just done. Well, Sora really hadn't _done _much of anything, more just lay there passively while Riku startled him and took what he wanted, took what he'd been craving for quite awhile.

_It's been a long time since I'd wanted anyone inside me._

He stopped in the center of the echoey foyer and listened. It was around eight o'clock in the evening—his parents wouldn't be home until the small hours of the night. The clang of pots and the rush of the kitchen sink alerted Riku to their impromptu voyeur's whereabouts. Mrs. Pots would be preparing dinner now, for him and his 'friend'.

Riku padded over the soft hall carpeting, a hand trailing idelly along the wall. His mother always used to snap at him for doing that—now he doubted she'd notice if he graffitied the anarchy symbol over the door to his room.

Upon reaching the spot where the clean white carpeting became dark granite, Riku paused. Mrs. Pots had her back turned, washing chicken legs in the sink. A cutting bored sat on the counter at her elbow, onions and carrots waiting to be chopped. Riku cleared his throat.

"Mrs. Pots?"  
The old woman glanced over her shoulder. "Can it wait a moment, Riku?"

"Of course," he said, waiting as she turned back.

Mrs. Pots had been their housekeeper for years, longer than Riku could remember. She always kept her white hair tied back in a rather severe bun, but there was nothing severe about her temperament. Now that Riku thought on it, she had been the only one who'd been there throughout his life, to help him with homework, to bandage cuts and bruises, to hold his hand whenever a hurricane had ravaged the island, shaking the mansion to the core and rattling the big window in his bedroom.

_She's more of a mother than Mom will ever be_, he thought. _And what is she going to think of me now? _

He watched as Mrs. Pots finished cleaning the chicken, chopped the vegetables, and put everything together in an aluminum baking pan. About the time she began to sprinkle it with thyme and rosemary, he couldn't stand it anymore.

"Mrs. Pots, I…"

She sighed, grinding black pepper into a fine powder and dusting that overtop of everything else. "Riku, hasn't anyone ever taught you of the fine, old-fashioned contraption 'the lock'?"

Riku opened his mouth, to fight, to defend himself, but choked on the words before they came out.

"What?" he asked, bewildered.

Mrs. Pots sighed again. She turned toward him, wiping her hands on a dishtowel. "Riku, I know you've come down to argue your case, but you needn't bother. I know." She smiled. "Your affections don't lie toward the persuasion of the world's young women."

Riku realized his mouth was hanging open. He closed it, swallowing thickly. "You know. How do you know?"

Mrs. Pots gave him a look of irony so great he nearly took a step back. "How do I know the sky is blue? Because I look up, and it's so _obvious_." She smiled kindly. "Riku, dear. It's not hard to tell."

Riku had to sit down. He passed a hand over his eyes, laughing softly. "So all this time…?"

"It's not something I count as important. It's none of my business what the son of my employers gets himself up to. Maybe some women my age would condemn you, but I won't." She turned back to the sink, picking up a colander and shaking out the last drops of moisture on a clutch of green beans. "And you don't hide it too well."

Riku laughed again. She had that right. Neither his clothes or his attitude could ever be mistaken as incredibly masculine. He'd always just assumed he'd been able to slip under their radar, Mrs. Pots and—

"My parents!" he exclaimed, looking up wildly. "My parents, do they…?

"They don't know, Riku," Mrs. Pots said, drying her hands on the dishtowel again. "And that's certainly not a credit to your methods of concealment."

"Wha?" Riku's brain still wasn't quite up to scratch.

Mrs. Pots smiled, rheumy eyes crinkling up at the edges. "Far be it for me to speak ill of your mother and father, but your parents don't see you as the son you are, but as the son they believe you are supposed to be." Her smile turned a little sad. "They…don't have much time to dwell on your extracurricular activities."

"Do they even know Sora's staying here?"

"Well, I told your mother, but I'm not sure she was listening," Mrs. Pots answered.

"So…" Riku let out a breathy chuckle. "So my secret's safe with you?"

"Of course," Mrs. Pots declared, turning back to her green beans. "Not a word of it will pass my lips. But if Sora's going to be staying here for the summer indefinitely, the two of you might look into washing your own bedclothes."

* * *

Cloud fiddled anxiously with the hem of his jacket. It felt good to be back in his own clothes, but the pit of snakes roiling round and round in his stomach made him sure he was going to be sick. He ran his gloved fingers through his hair, removing his sunglasses and taking a calming breath. He could do this.

Over the last fifteen minutes Cloud had become very friendly with the parking lot outside the Blue Rhapsody. He'd been sitting on his bike, trying to work up the nerve to go into the bar and meet Sephiroth for their 'business meeting'. He'd followed the directions to the snazzy part of town, less than a mile from the shoreline. The air here was saturated with the smell of the sea, reminding Cloud that he hadn't made it to the beach yet this year.

And he was still putting off going inside.

_I'm acting like a lovesick schoolboy, _he thought pathetically, tipping his head back.

It wasn't the fact that he was attracted to a man that bothered him. He could deal with that. The problem was the fact that it had to happen now, on top of everything else. Maybe after a few weeks, once the sting of Aeris' betrayal lessened, maybe then. But maybe not.

_Okay, I'm going in now. _

The Blue Rhapsody was a private club, closed to the Island's public—open to only the very richest of the residents. The interior was large and darkened, the only light flickering candles on the small, rectangular tables, and a soft blue glow hovering over the marble-topped bar. A man sat behind a baby grand piano, playing a smooth, rippling jazz tune. The man at the host stand looked up when Cloud walked in.

He held up a hand in a polite, 'stop right there' gesture'. He was very thin and almost sickeningly pale, with a little curled black mustache that looked it had been glued on.

"I'm sorry, sir," he began, and Cloud was faintly surprised he didn't put on an accent. "This is a private club. Members only."

Cloud didn't bother to ask how the host immediately knew he wasn't a member. He didn't exactly look like he belonged in a place like this, what with the leather motorcycle jacket, dark jeans, and spiky hair. "My name's Cloud Strife, I'm meeting Mr…" Cloud realized he didn't know Sephiroth's last name. "I'm meeting Sephiroth here."

The man's eyes widened slightly. "He mentioned he was entertaining a guest tonight. He's over there, at the bar, so I suppose you can…" He still looked dubious, but he pointed a thin finger toward the back of the club. It only took a moment for Cloud to find Sephiroth, so distinctive was that silver hair. He seemed to be deep in conversation with the bartender, but a moment later he turned, as if some sixth sense had alerted him. His eyes narrowed, lighting on Cloud, frighteningly green even from this far away. He raised his glass in a small toast.

Cloud's stomach clenched uncomfortably.

He crossed the wide floor of the club, drawing several odd looks from the clientele, men in blazers and suits and women in cocktail dresses. He swallowed, but tried to keep the nerves off his face.

_Don't look like a weakling, don't look like a victim. _It was something he'd had to tell himself all his life. His timidity had always been a constant source of hurt and confusion to him, especially as it was coupled with a deep, aching desire for pain.

_Heh. Maybe I need therapy after all. _

"Glad you decided to stop by," Sephiroth said when he reached the bar, smile slightly underhanded. Cloud attempted to grin back, but it most likely came out pretty limp. Was it possible Sephiroth had known he'd spent twenty minutes outside just trying to work up the nerve to come in?

"Yeah…I'm glad…too." He colored, perching himself on the empty stool beside Sephiroth. The bartender turned back from serving a man in a grey smoking jacket, giving Cloud a dazzling smile.

"Hey, sweetheart. Can I get you something?" She was older Cloud by a few decades, and she held an air of sophistication that was still far out of his reach. Her hair done up in beaded braids. When she spoke her blindingly white teeth contrasted startlingly with the deep cocoa color of her skin.

"Um." Cloud wasn't sure what to get, whether Sephiroth planned to pay for it. He decided to be courageous. "Scotch. Dry."

Sephiroth made a sound of amusement beside him. "Expensive taste?"

Cloud tried for what he thought might look like a confident smile. "If you're buying."

Sephiroth let out a fully fledged laugh this time, tipping his head back, the blue light of the bar catching his hair, making it shimmer like moonlight. "Of course. Bernice, Scotch. Dry." He gestured to Cloud.

The bartender met his gaze, and Cloud got the fleeting impression they were plotting something. "What variety, Sir?"

"Single-malt," Sephiroth said without hesitation. "Best you have."

Cloud swallowed thickly.

Bernice gave another dazzlingly bright smile, pulling a bottle out from under the bar. Sephiroth turned back to Cloud, swirling his martini slowly, the wide glass glinting metallically. "A fan of expensive whisky, Cloud? I would have imagined you as the Margarita sort."

Cloud blinked. _Is he calling me fruity? _

"Yeah, and martini's are so manly," he said before he could help himself.

Sephiroth took a sip of his beverage and popped an olive into his mouth. "And is any part of me manly?" he asked with an amused smile.

Cloud cocked his head. It was a decent question. There were some things about Sephiroth that were undoubtedly feminine, the long hair, the delicate hands. But overall, he was definitely a man. His voice alone could prove that. It was enough to send shivers running down Cloud's spine

Shit, shit, shit.

_You've got a crush on this dude. Get over it. _

"I'm sure the parts that matter are," Cloud answered coyly.

That made Sephiroth laugh again, that deep chuckle that made Cloud's stomach flip over.

"Cute and witty," Bernice commented, pouring out the whisky into a small glass tumbler and leaving the bottle. "Looks like quite a catch to me, Seph."

Cloud tried to will away the embarrassed blush blossoming on his face. Sephiroth accepted another martini from Bernice. He didn't agree that Cloud was his 'catch', but he didn't deny it.

"So, uh…are we going to talk about that job?" Cloud asked, taking a sip of the whisky. This was the good shit. Single-malt, huh? Tasted damn classy.

Sephiroth shook his head, as if Cloud's question disappointed him. "All business and no pleasure." Bernice snorted from the other end of the bar.

"What's funny?" Cloud asked. He was feeling more and more like the punch line of some elaborate joke no one had bothered to let him in on.

"Nothing important," Sephiroth assured him, still looking wickedly amused. He slipped one of his hands into his breast pocket, drawing forth a pack of cigarettes. He tapped one out onto the bar, placing it between two elegant fingers.

"Cigarette?" he asked, offering the pack to Cloud.

"No thanks," Cloud said. "I don't. Smoke, I mean."

Sephiroth hesitated, head lowered toward the lighter in his hand, silvery hair spilling over his shoulder, eyebrows raised in a question.

"I don't mind if you smoke," Cloud said quickly. "I'm used to it. My girlfriend used to smoke." He almost winced. Why the hell had he brought up Aeris? "Ex-girlfriend," he added quickly.

Sephiroth lit his cigarette, drawing the smoke in slowly. "So you're used to the taste of a smoker."

Cloud almost choked on his Scotch. "I guess," he spluttered, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

Sephiroth took another elegant puff on his cigarette. It could hardly be called a drag, he did it so delicately. He didn't wolf down the smoke like Aeris had, back when she'd possessed her one and only bad habit.

"You said your ex-_girlfriend_ smoked," Sephiroth mused, tone light. "Forgive me, but I was under the impression you and Mr. Leonhart were involved."

Cloud fought the blush. He was getting better at that. "Ah, no. We're roommates. Sort of. It's kind of complicated," he admitted with a breathy chuckle.

"I'd be interested to hear about it sometime," Sephiroth said, drinking down the last few drops of his martini. "But now, as you said. The job." He smiled, as if the thought gave him great pleasure. "Let me explain what I would require of you, if you decide to work for me."

"Leon told me about your photos," Cloud responded, hesitantly.

"Leon?" Sephiroth repeated, brow creased.

Cloud fixed his attention to the bowl of mixed nuts on the bar. "Squall. Mr. Leonhart. People call him Leon."

"Indeed. And what has Leon told you about my photographs?"

Cloud shifted uncomfortably. "He said…um, that…"

Sephiroth gave a deep chuckle. "You certainly are shy, aren't you?" He reached past the blonde for a napkin, fingers brushing Cloud's hand. He was almost sure it hadn't been an accident.

Sephiroth continued, tracing his fingers over the dark wood of the bar. "Well, since I'm sure Leon put his own spin on the work I do, I don't see any need to mince words." He punctuated this by stubbing his cigarette out in the crystal ashtray. "My work is very controversial, I am renowned for it. Much of it has even been referred to by my harsher critics as pornographic."

"Like Andy Warhol," Cloud commented before he could stop himself.

Sephiroth cocked his eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

Cloud swallowed, not wanting to look like an idiot. He should have just kept his damn mouth shut. "A-Andy Warhol. The painter and filmmaker. People criticized his work as too explicit and he just took it as a compliment."

Sephiroth looked mildly impressed. "Cloud, I had no idea you were a connoisseur of the fine arts."

Cloud shrugged. "I work in the theatre, but I'm probably more interested in visual art than plays and things."

"Is that so?" Sephiroth accepted his third martini of the night from Bernice, who seemed to be as intent on their conversation as they were. Cloud supposed she must have known Sephiroth well, or she wouldn't have dared eavesdrop.

The silver-haired man sipped at the martini and set it down, stirring it idelly. "I need to ask you a question, Cloud, and I apologize for my forwardness, but are you straight?"

"Huh?" Cloud's hand jerked slightly, spilling a bit of the Scotch as he refilled his glass.

Sephiroth raised an eyebrow. "Are you straight? Are you only attracted to women?"

Cloud swallowed his automatic response of, "Yes, of course I'm straight, thank you very much," and forced himself to consider the question. The answer was 'no' if he thought about it. He was undeniably attracted to Sephiroth, but did that really mean he wasn't straight? Didn' a lot of heterosexual men sometimes find other guys hot? He wasn't sure, so he said the safest, truest thing he could.

"No, I'm not just attracted to women."

_I guess I'm getting braver, _he thought, almost smiling. _But it's probably just the whisky talking. _

"Good," Sephiroth said airily, lighting another cigarette. "It simplifies things a great deal." He laughed at Cloud's rather thrown expression. "It wouldn't be a huge matter if you weren't attracted to men, but as a beginner it would most likely be easier to pose with models you find sexually attractive."

"Do I have to fuck them?" Cloud asked it before he stopped to think.

Sephiroth took it in stride. He grinned. "Only if you want to. But make it on your own time, would you?"  
Cloud chuckled uncomfortably. This was probably a really bad idea, something that would spell out pain and misery.

But still, he drained his glass, nodded his head, and said, "I'll do it."

* * *

Leon didn't know what had possessed him to leave the poorly lighted sanctuary of his apartment and walk the two miles toward the theatre, but that's where he found himself doing around a quarter after eight—stomping up Main Street and down toward the Eventide Café.

The Café shared a building with the theatre, though it had only opened a few years ago. Slowly but surely, Destiny Island was beginning to acquire itself a Bohemian district, somewhere exotic coffee flavors and live acoustic music would be appreciated. Leon had only been a couple of times before—he was so busy usually, and it tended to be the kind of place that attracted the teenage element rather than the mid-twenties bachelor.

The interior was noisy and crowded, door propped open to spill light and air conditioning out onto the sidewalk. It looked a bit too claustrophobic for Leon, and he was just about to shake his head and berate himself for leaving off his comfortable moping back at home, when he heard someone calling his name.

"Squall! Oh my god, Squall!"

He winced involuntarily at the name, but looked back nevertheless. A dark-haired, red-shirted woman was practically toppling out of the Eventide's door, barreling into him about sternum level, stopping just short of sending Leon into the street. She made a grab for his jacket, catching him by the lapels.

"Ha! I though it was you, you son of bitch!" she cried happily, hugging him around the shoulders.

Leon desperately tried to process the situation. He'd been wallowing in self-pity a moment ago, his mind back on goddamn Cloud Strife—now he was held in captivity by a violent female.

"R-Rinoa?" he asked, floored.

"Oh my god!" the woman squealed again, hugging him around the middle this time. "I haven't seen you in like, two years!"

They were beginning to get stares at this point, the dirtiest of which were directed at him. People had the tendency to immediately assume that the woman was the victim, regardless of the fact that Leon's expression was more than a little fearful. He considered screaming, "rape!" but he harbored doubts that would go over too well.

So instead he said, "Rinoa…how nice to…see you."

The woman finally let go of him, stepping back until she was just teetering on the edge of his personal bubble, instead of bursting through it completely. She was pretty, if not a little too pale for summer, with an aristocratic nose and brows that would have been heavy if they hadn't been so severely penciled into submission.

Rinoa laughed at his rather dubious once over. "Come on, Squall. The least you could do is muster up a little more enthusiasm for the girl who turned you gay."

Leon's expression didn't change. "Because that is me all over, Rinoa. Enthusiastic. And, by the way, it's Leon now."

"Leon?" Rinoa made a face. "So, you're Leon _Leonhart _now? That's a little redundant."

"Just Leon," Leon said stiffly. He'd started walking again, in hopes that that would give her a bit of a clue, but she was right along with him.

"What, like Madonna?" she laughed. "Or Sting, maybe?"

Leon rolled his eyes. "What the fuck are you talking about?"

"Your choice of names. Kind of cool. Pretty hardcore. So how are you, Squall?"

Leon let a slow, calming breath out through his nostrils. "You do realize you just completely disregarded my request for you not use that name?"

Rinoa smiled, rocking forward on her heels. "Yep. I said I liked the nickname, I didn't say I would use it. Now…answer the question."

"What question?"

"How are you?"

Leon shoved his hands into his pockets. "I'm fine, Rinoa."

She snorted. "Yeah, right. That's not your 'I'm fine' scowl, it's your 'there's something bothering me but I'm too damn proud to admit it' scowl."

Leon raised an incredulous eyebrow.

"I've learned to tell the difference," Rinoa said rather wickedly. "So, what cute little piece of tail has the great _Leon _so wound up? Let me guess, is it blond?"

Leon shrugged. Maybe if he ignored it, it would go away.

But no such luck, as Rinoa was still strolling along next to him, looking as happy as an oddly pale, dark-haired clam. "Hmmm…does your problem have pretty blue eyes? And does he, by any chance, have a fetish for pain?"

Leon stopped so suddenly the man behind him slammed his hip into his ass.

"Watch it, fucker."

Leon didn't really have ears for him. He was staring at Rinoa as if he'd just realized she was the enemy. "Rinoa, how the fuck did you—."

"Calm down," she pleaded, though she was still laughing. "I'm not after your precious Cloud Strife."

Leon felt utterly nonplussed. "How did you…?"

Rinoa rolled her eyes. "Come on, Squall. Did you forget everything over the last few years? I'm the head surgeon at the South Street Hospital. Mr. Strife was checked into the psychiatric ward last Friday, and you checked him out next morning." She smiled. "By way of my keen powers of deduction, and the fact Mr. Strife is such a nice piece of ass, I've decided you must be trying to get into his pants."

Leon felt faintly winded. He remembered Rinoa going on about a promotion she was looking to get—that had been right before they'd broken up, when he'd realized he really couldn't appreciate the vagina any longer.

Slowly, he started to walk again, though his frown was still firmly fixed in place. "Did you meet Strife?"

Rinoa shook her head, light from a streetlamp making her dark hair shine. "No, but I saw him. Damn sexy, even in a hospital gown. Pity I didn't get to examine him," she said wistfully.

A violent stab of possessiveness flashed through Leon, and he had to consciously restrain himself from saying something scathing. No one else was allowed to think about seeing Cloud naked, or do anything that might cause him pain. He'd kill anyone, anyone at all who wanted to hurt him.

_Jesus Christ, _he thought as they rambled over the crosswalk and toward the park, _I've got it bad. _

Rinoa giggled at what he would bet was the expression on his face. "You really like this guy, don't you?"

He shrugged. "I guess." Leon didn't feel like discussing his love life with his ex-girlfriend.

"Where does he live?" Rinoa asked, rooting idelly through her purse for a pack of gum. She offered Leon a piece. He just treated her to another frown, and she just laughed. He was beginning to remember what about her had driven him off. Bitch thought absolutely everything was funny.

"Where does he live?" she asked again.

He sighed. "Right now he's living with me."

"Really? Dammit, you move fast, Romeo."

Leon curbed the impulse to smack her across the face. That could conceivably get him arrested. "It's not…" He winced at the dull headache beginning to form behind his eyes. So many goddamn headaches lately. Must have been the stress. "It's not like that. He's only staying with me because his he can't go home—his girlfriend's the crazy bitch who checked him into the hospital in the first place."

Rinoa held up a hand. "Wait a minute. Crazy _girlfriend? _The boy isn't gay?"

Leon tried to keep his expression closer to moody than mournful, as he shook his head.

Snorting, Rinoa smacked him on the shoulder. "Please, Squall. He is about as gay as they come. And believe me, they come pretty gay."

"Whatever." It was a safe answer, neither here nor there.

* * *

"Did you ever do that professionally?"

Vincent glanced over at her, attempting to suppress a yawn. He was sprawled on his back, pale chest ghostly in the darkness. The weight in his crimson gaze had lifted a little. He was sleepy and contented.

"What?" he asked, faintly confused.

Yuffie stretched, bare legs brushing against his under the warm sheets. "Did you ever fuck professionally? 'Cause you sure got professional talent."

For a moment, Vincent just stared at her. Then laughter bubbled up from his throat, warm, honest laughter. "Dammit, Yuffie. No, I never fucked professionally." He couldn't say it with a straight face, but had to bury his head in his hands, shoulders shaking.

"Wow, I didn't know I was so damn funny," Yuffie commented. "Or do you usually react to orgasms with hysterical amusement?"

That just made him laugh harder.

When he finally got himself under control, he turned back, leaning forward to kiss her on the forehead. She smiled, reaching for his hand and lacing his fingers with hers.

"Alright, I admit it, you managed to distract me for a couple of hours. Now, spill it. I want to know why the fuck you have wings. Or 'had' wings," she corrected. Sometime between the second and the third time, the great, feathery black wings that adorned Vincent's back had disappeared, leaving him completely normal. Or, at least, as normal as he had ever been.

For a few minutes, Vincent said nothing. He just let his eyes rove over Yuffie's face, over her eyes, her nose, her lips. Over the little red marks he'd inflicted on the soft skin of her neck. Without a doubt, she was the best, most sane thing that had ever happened to him.

He took a breath of the motel air, thick with mildew and stale cigarettes. "What does it smell like in here to you?" he asked Yuffie.

"Huh?" She looked confused, but she sniffed anyway. "Like—ass, I guess. Nasty."

Vincent smiled faintly. "To me, it smells like salvation." Yuffie didn't question, just waited for him to elaborate. "I don't ever want to be somewhere that has no scent—like a hospital. Because it reminds me."

"Reminds you of what?"

Vincent's eyes went to the cracked, shadowy ceiling. "Reminds me of the place I spent five years of my life. Five years that don't really exist.

"When I was eighteen, I couldn't afford University. I saw an add in the paper for a scholarship program—all I'd have to do is participate in a study that they guaranteed was 'one hundred percent safe'." He snorted. "If only. I showed up at the clinic on the morning—I think it was a Friday. There was about fifty people there, and they called us in one at a time, performing a physical examination—height, weight, blood type, reflexes, and something else. Something odd."

"What?" Yuffie prompted.

"Pain. Our reaction to pain. Most human being's first reaction to discomfort is to fight to get away from it—to cower in the corner. But some of us strike out. When the lab assistant stuck that needle into me, I attacked. I punched her in the throat." He swallowed. His voice was dead, monotone, as if he was recounting someone else's story.

"I killed her."

Yuffie was silent for a moment. Vincent could feel her shifting under the blankets, and for one terrifying moment he thought she was getting up—leaving him. But she settled against his shoulder, breath warm on his neck.

"You killed her for sticking a needle in you? Vincent, that's not normal."

"I know. I only did it because they had injected me with something to enhance my emotions and adrenaline."

"Well then, it wasn't your fault."

"Yes, it was." He closed his eyes, breathing in through his nose. "I wouldn't have done it if it hadn't been…been natural. I guess everything else just fit, the blood type, temperament, body type, because they didn't let me go home. I was freaking out—I'd just killed a woman with my bare hands—and they just pumped me full of drugs." His voice held the barest tremor. "When I finally became lucid enough to understand anything at all, I was five years older."

"They kept you in their for _five years_?" Yuffie asked, aghast.

Vincent nodded. "Five years. And when I woke up, I could sprout wings on command an tear a man's heart out without breaking a sweat."

"Alright," Yuffie said. I'll buy that. But I still want to know who that creepy doctor was, Dr. Ansem."

Vincent laughed. It wasn't a pretty sound. "Creepy doctor is right. His name back at the lab was Diz. He was a monster."

"And the guy who sliced you all up? The one who shot you?"

"That was Dr. Hojo. Diz's partner."

Yuffie prop herself up on her elbow, sheet slipping down to reveal the swell of her breast. "Why did he want to kill you?"

"I don't know," Vincent said after a moment. "I don't know."

* * *

Leon had barely been home five minutes before there came a great clattering on the unfriendly side of his front door. It sounded like someone was trying to pick the lock, and had decided to pound the door knocker at the same time. The resulting cacophony was enough to rouse even Leon, who was by no means in the mood for any more disturbances. The conversation with Rinoa had depressed him enough for one night, thank you very much. He just wanted to take a shower, curl up in bed, maybe jerk off a few times, and go to bed.

He stomped down the hall from his bedroom, through the living room, and over to the door, fully intending to beat whoever the fuck was out there to an inch of their life. Grabbing the knob, he jerked it open, and immediately found himself with an armful of Cloud Strife.

"Cloud, fuck!" Leon bellowed, the volume brought up by the fact the blonde's shoulder had nailed him in the solar plexus. He managed to drag him far enough into the apartment to kick the door shut. "What happened to you?"

Cloud shook his head, blonde spikes stuck to his forehead. At the moment, even his hair seemed sluggish. "I'm drunk as fuck, Leon," he giggled. "Too much alcohol."

"Too much alcohol is right, Cloud," Leon murmured, going to his knees and feeling the man's forehead. He was clammy—he needed to sleep it off. "Did Sephiroth make you drink this much?" Here, this was the perfect opportunity to summon up some righteous anger for the photographer who was stepping on his toes.

But Cloud was shaking his head again, slowly, back and forth. "No, it wassn' 'is fault," he slurred. He rubbed his eyes clumsily. "Tired…"

"Shit, Cloud, did you drive home like this? Please tell me you did not ride a motorcycle drunk off your ass. With no helmet."

Cloud shook his head again. "Nope. Sephiroth drove me home. He's got a sports car."

Leon couldn't help the smile of fondness that was beginning to dominate his features. Cloud was nothing short of damn _cute _when he was fucked up. Really, he resembled at the moment, nothing more than a sleepy child—granted a child in a leather motorcycle jacket.

"Come on, you need to sleep it off."

Cloud turned out to be quite a bit heavier than he looked, but Leon still managed to heft him up bridal style and carry him down the hall to his bedroom. The sheets were turned back and a glass of water was sitting on the night table. He stripped the motorcycle jacket off him, sitting Cloud down on the edge of the mattress.

"Hey, do you think you can take off your shirt?" Leon asked quietly.

Cloud nodded, though he was still smiling that slightly bemused smile.

_Stands to reason he'd be a calm, introspective drunk. _

The blond raised his hands slowly, fumbling with the buttons at his collar. It was a slow, clumsy process, but Leon didn't offer to help, just watched. Watched Cloud's pale, slender fingers weave in and out, focused on the widening trail of skin revealed every time a button came undone.

Leon made himself breathe, made himself remember how unprofessional it would be to take advantage of Cloud in his weakened state. The blond shrugged out of his shirt slowly, wrapping his arms around himself to chase away the night chill that wasn't there. Leon's room stuffy as hell. The brunette focused on not staring too blatantly, not wondering how it would feel to trace his fingers over the sculpted curves of his arms, feel the muscle of his stomach twitch as he kissed his hipbones and licked his way down under the waistband of his jeans.

Leon cussed, squeezing his eyes shut. This was getting out of hand.

_Fuck it, _he thought after a moment. _It's not like he'll even remember me staring at him. As long as I don't touch…_

Cautiously, he raised his eyes from the floor. Cloud was still sitting on the edge of the bed, swaying slightly, the smile of contentment still on his face. "What now?" he asked serenely.

Leon had to clear his throat several times before he could speak. "N-Now I think you'd better lie down, Strife. You're fucked up."

Cloud nodded faintly, swinging his legs up onto the bed and lying down flat on his back, head on Leon's pillow. His eyes closed and he took a deep breath. "I'm tired," he muttered.

Leon knew that now was the time to leave. He should shut off the light, grab a blanket, and go sleep on the couch. No point in staying here—staring at the one thing he wanted most in the world, but could never have. He was just about to follow his own advice, when something caught his attention.

Laid out on the bed, half-naked and utterly limp with intoxication, Cloud wasn't making any effort to shield his body, the way he'd done with his arms the one time Leon had seen him shirtless. Now that his view was uninterrupted, he could see the tiny red marks around both the blonde's nipples. It looked like someone had taken a pocket knife and just gone to town.

A staggering pulse of arousal jolted through Leon's body as he realized the someone had been Cloud himself. He'd inflicted those tiny little cuts, and from the look of things, he'd done it recently. Leon's breath got choked in his throat as he imagined it, Cloud moaning as he cut himself, most likely masturbating at the same time. Good God.

And if the way Cloud had reacted earlier that night had been any indication, the result must have been staggering. The blonde nearly lost control of a motorcycle just from having his nipples stroked through a T-shirt.

"Leon…"

He took a sharp breath. _Come on, man. Get it together. _"Yeah?" he asked softly, leaning closer.

Cloud tugged at the bedclothes. "I'm cold, Leon. Why's your apartment so fucking cold?"

Leon narrowed his eyes. "Cloud, do you have a fever? It's not cold in here."

He shook his head wildly from side to side. "Don't gotta fever. Drinking makes me cold. I'ma cold drunk."

"If you say so." Leon bent down, helping to maneuver Cloud under the bed linens. Up close, he smelled like cologne and stale sweat—that sharp, masculine scent that only served to further test Leon's self control.

And he looked like sex. His spiky hair was mussed and drooping, brilliant blue eyes lidded to slits, the picture of post-coital lethargy. The heat in Leon's stomach was twisting tighter and tighter. He was so damn hard it hurt.

He tried to step back, to put as much distance between him and the man fucking with his usually steel self-control, but a hand had entwined in his hair. Cloud was pulling him closer, until their breath mingled. Leon was aware of every part of his body, like someone had lit a fire under his skin and it was slowly spreading through his limbs.

_I can't take this anymore! _

He couldn't stop it. Cloud just looked to damn inviting, lying there inches from him, lips parted. Leon was human—he wasn't made of willpower.

Cloud's mouth was hot and soft. He tasted like whisky, like pure intoxication. Their tongues moved together slowly as Leon planted a knee on the bed and ran his hands through Cloud's damp hair, fingers fisting in the messy spikes.

Their was a ringing in his ears, a fog of disbelief around his senses, of impossibility. This couldn't be happening, couldn't—

Cloud made a low whimpering sound in his throat as Leon pulled his hair. They broke apart a moment later, breath coming short and erratic. Leon opened his eyes, the look of sleepy contentment on Cloud's face just making his insides coil tighter. He leaned forward to kiss him again, but he blonde shied away, his eyes fluttering.

"Leon…" His voice was low and shaky, and it sent a shiver to Leon's groin. "Leon…I'm really drunk…I can't, I don't…"

It felt like the heat in Leon's stomach had congealed. He sat up, wiping his arm across his lips. They were still tingling.

"Sorry," he mumbled, eyes glued to the carpet. "I-I'll be out in the—in the living room if you need me."

He didn't stop, didn't look back. Just slammed the door behind him, throwing himself on the couch, and wondering what he'd just done.

* * *

Well that's the end of chapter 16! As for the chapter name--Psychobabble is an Imogen Heap song about not understanding each other, and that's kind of what we got with the Cloud/Leon subplot in this chapter. Please leave me reviews! I just started college, and I'm stressed! It'll only take a minute to make my day!

**A rather lengthy author's note: **something I've noticed lately. There really does seem to be two kinds of fanfiction out there. There's the happy-go-lucky, fruity comedy stuff, and then there's the hardcore angst. It's like nobody can find the happy medium. And the angst is what bothers me the most. You don't have to make all your characters drug addicts, or strippers, or abused children just to make them seem down-to-earth, 'cause, in reality, most people aren't like that.

Maybe I'm completely on crack here, but I've been comparing Mansion to a lot of KH fics lately, and I've come to the conclusions that it's a lot different. Whether that's a good or bad thing, I don't know, but what I do know that it is somewhere in the middle. It's not a goofy comedy, nor is it so depressing you want to stop reading it. Some people tell me that that's bad—things should be over the top. But call me crazy, I tried to make these kids seem average, well, as average as young, gay, sexy characters borrowed from a Japanese video game can be. I just wish people could find that fine medium, ya know? Where it's not delightfully happy, but not horribly angst-ridden either.

Not to say there aren't fics on this site that definitely live up to this. There are two such writers that I'm gonna pimp to you right now.

The first is The Glass Slipper, and if you haven't checked out her KH fiction you definitely should. She's a gorgeous writer, and she gives me hope for the fandom.

The second is Red Kettle. She rights Harry Potter fiction, about the Marauders mainly. Her style is very urban and gritty, but absolutely beautiful. Reminds me of Holly Black, actually.


	17. Thank You for the Venom

Disclaimer: I don't own it. Nope. Not me. Goddammit, am I ever out of witty disclaimers.

Okay. I am aware I haven't updated in quite awhile. I'm also aware that this chapter is dismally short. I just started college, and I've been so goddamn busy I haven't had time to work on this much, but I really wanted to get something up for Mansion's birthday. That's right, Mansion by the Sea turns one year today, September 25. Yay!!!!!!!

Anyway, I just want to apologize for the lack of length. But come on, we all know size isn't important. It's what you do with it that counts ;)

Yeah, this chapter is just Leon, Cloud, and Sephiroth. Sorry. Don't worry though, there is actually plot development!

Chapter 17

Thank You for the Venom

* * *

_"So, we'll say Saturday, then?" _

_"Saturday?" _

_"Yes. Come by my studio and we'll take some experimental shots." _

Cloud had written out the directions on a napkin at the Blue Rhapsody, during the point in the evening when he'd still been able to hold a pen. Honestly, he hadn't meant to get that drunk, but the more whisky he consumed the easier it had become to hold a normal conversation with Sephiroth. The man got increasingly less intimidating as the night went by. The problem remained that Cloud wasn't the most coherent drunks. Usually he just crawled into a corner and fell asleep.

_Thank god Sephiroth's not a creep. He could have taken me home and raped me and I wouldn't have known the difference. _

He'd been forced to leave his motorcycle in the parking lot and let the silver-haired man drive him home. Cloud was impressed with himself he'd even remembered the way to Leon's apartment. Most everything after that point became a blur. He remembered literally stumbling over Leon's threshold, into his arms. He supposed the brunet had carried him inside.

He'd woken up in bed, shirt off and blankets tucked up to his waist, alone in the back room. When he'd finally worked up the strength to roll out of his bed (clutching his head and bemoaning the evils of alcohol) it had been to find an empty apartment and a note on the kitchen table, beside a bottle of Advil.

_Hey-_

_I went to rehearsal. Didn't want to wake you, you seemed pretty trashed. Don't stress yourself. _

It wasn't signed, but there was no one else it could have been from.

That night, Leon had driven Cloud downtown to retrieve his bike from the Blue Rhapsody parking lot. He hadn't asked about his date.

Sephiroth's studio space turned out to be a rented warehouse two miles from town, at the Bastion Docks. To Cloud it looked like something out of a B-list slasher movie, where the hero is brutally set upon, tortured and raped by a vicious serial killer. It did nothing to settle his nerves.

He followed Sephiroth's instructions, leaving his bike in the back parking lot and following the rusting metal wall to a door on the north side. He knocked and stood there awkwardly, worrying that no one was here, that no one would know who he was. That whoever worked here would just tell him to fuck off.

Who was he kidding? He wasn't a model. He was just one mightily fucked up dude.

He almost left right then, but the image of Sephiroth's vivid green eyes and subtle smile swam through his brain.

As it turned out, the door was unlocked. It swung inward with an agonizing squeal. Who the hell would shoot professional nude photos in a shithole like this?

The interior was dim, lit with nothing but weak sunlight filtering in through dirty windows spaced erratically on the far wall. Cloud could make out hulking shapes in the four corners of the giant room, skeletal forms of lights and reflectors, and what seemed to be several different sets. The closest was nothing but a richly red sofa set against a background of white.

Where was everyone? Surely a photographer as celebrated and professional as Sephiroth would have a crew, wouldn't he? Maybe Cloud was early.

"Good morning, Mr. Strife." That damn voice slipped and slid over his skin, making his insides clench. "Glad to see you can appreciate punctuality."

Sephiroth had come through the door after him, holding a paper bag and a tall take out mug of coffee. There was a black camera bag over his shoulder. His hair was pulled back, though the wind had coaxed a few silvery strands down to frame his face. In his black muscle top and designer jeans, he looked much more like a model than Cloud felt.

"Hey," Cloud greeted blandly, attempting a smile.

Sephiroth answered with that smirking, infuriatingly sensual curve of the lips. "Follow me to the back, will you?"

He gestured, leading the way to a long, industrial looking desk sitting a few feet from the far wall. Sephiroth set down his coffee, the bag, and his camera, turning on a small reading lamp. He then turned back to Cloud, looking him up and down appraisingly.

"We're just going to do some test shots today, Cloud," he said.

"Is that why there's no one else here?" He was becoming frustratingly aware of the fact he was currently alone with Sephiroth in a distant part of town. The thought made him sick with fear and, at the same time, giddy with excitement.

"Don't worry," Sephiroth smirked, as if he knew exactly what was going through Cloud's mind. "I don't bite, unless of course, you ask nicely."

Cloud swallowed sharply and audibly.

"Calm down, Cloud. I was making a joke." He frowned. "We really do need to work on this shyness of yours. Coffee?" He gestured to the cup on his desk. There was only one. Cloud shook his head.

"Then let's get started." Sephiroth lead the way to one of the corners of the warehouse, "And leave your jacket at the desk."

Cloud shrugged out of his leather jacket, draping it over the desk chair. The roiling pit of snakes in his stomach was back. He was beginning to seriously regret agreeing to this.

He followed Sephiroth over to the set that was nothing but a draping of fabric, in the southeast corner of the warehouse. When a light was switched on, Cloud's vision was flooded with dark crimson.

"A little over the top, I must admit," Sephiroth chuckled, switching on several more lights and setting up a silver reflector. "Most of my photos I like to take outside with natural light."

"But you can't because it's overcast today, right?" Cloud guessed.

"Exactly." Sephiroth was now fiddling with his camera, unscrewing one lens and affixing another, much longer one. It looked pretty damn professional to Cloud, professional and expensive.

"Where do you want me?" Cloud asked, realizing a moment too late what that sounded like. Apparently, Sephiroth realized as well, as he looked up from his camera, arching an eyebrow. The intent in those jade eyes was crystalline clear—it was easy for Cloud to tell exactly where the silver-haired man wanted him. The thing that really frightened him was the fact that he wouldn't exactly be adverse to being there.

When Sephiroth spoke his voice was perfectly even, as if he hadn't just optically begged Cloud to fuck him.

"Stand in the centre there." He pointed with an elegant finger. "Oh, and take off your shirt."

Cloud couldn't honestly say he hadn't been expecting that. Hesitantly, he slid his T-shirt off, shivering as the air currents caressed his bare chest.

_I know my job description says nude model, but I seriously hope he lets me keep my pants on. At least for today. _

Sephiroth adjusted his camera for another moment, raising it to his eye. "Let's see how good you look on film, Strife."

Cloud fidgeted uncomfortably. "What do you want me to do?"

"Just stand there for the time being. We'll just…" He trailed off thoughtfully, lowering the camera and giving Cloud and appraising look. "Strife, what is wrong with your nipples?"

If Cloud had thought he'd blushed in front of Sephiroth before, this was a dozen times worse. He could feel his face burning, taste the shame creeping up his throat. How the hell had he forgotten about that? His arms jumped up to shield his chest, trying not to remember how good it had felt a few days ago when he'd done it.

What would Sephiroth think of him now?

_He'll think I'm a freak, that's what, _he answered himself.

Eyes to the floor, head down, that submissive posture he'd picked up somewhere along the line, after one too many defeats. He stood that way as Sephiroth paced slowly toward him and grabbed his arms.

"Strife, let me see." His voice was a low, rumbling command.

"No," Cloud mumbled, hoping he didn't look as much of a petulant child as he felt.

"Cloud…let me see."

Slowly, shamefully, Cloud let his arms drop. He refused to look Sephiroth in the face, instead choosing to stare down at the cement floor beside his shiny dark shoes. Sephiroth made a little sound of understanding, brushing a fingertip against Cloud's chest, just beneath his nipple. His shoulders jerk, an almost ridiculously powerful shiver rushing down his spine. He grit his teeth.

"Sexy."

The whisper was low and barely coherent, but Cloud heard it. His eyes snapped up, zeroing in on Sephiroth's smirking mouth.

"W-What?" he stuttered. "What—?"

Sephiroth laughed, that deep, rumbling sound, sending gooseflesh rippling over Cloud's arms. For one crazy moment, he though the silver haired man was going to kiss him, but he stepped back, hefting his camera once again.

"I said, I think the scars are sexy." He snapped a picture, the sound of the shutter loud and echoing in the lofty silence of the warehouse. "Do you have any more?"

Cloud blinked. "What?"

Sephiroth took several more pictures, circling Cloud like a bird of prey. "Do you have any more scars? I mean, have you cut yourself anywhere else?"

"Yeah," Cloud answered a moment or two, startled to hear the word come out bitter and defensive, rather that ashamed. "Yeah, I do. I like pain." For good measure he added, "I'm a masochist."

Sephiroth seemed to consider him for a few seconds, head cocked to the side, hair streaming elegantly over his shoulders. "Perfect," he said.

* * *

The knock at his office door startled Leon out of his current reality of figures and black type. He'd been absorbed (or as absorbed as one can be in paperwork ) and wondered who the fuck could be bothering him at noon on a Saturday, on weekend he hadn't called rehearsal. 

"Come in," he called gruffly.

The door swung open, revealing the one person in the world Leon wouldn't mind being interrupted by. Cloud strode in, looking more lively than he had in days. His dark blue eyes were shining with something that would have been mischief on anyone but him (because on him that wasn't possible, right?)and his step had adopted a veritable spring to it.

"Hey, you want to go eat lunch?"

Leon felt a little punch-drunk. Not only was Cloud radiating confidence today, he looked absolutely gorgeous. He couldn't have explained why—he wasn't wearing anything particularly deviant, just a tight black T-shirt and jeans—but Leon could barely restrain himself from jumping him. Pinning him to the floor of his office and ravishing him until they were both too exhausted to walk.

"Leon? You okay?" A crease appeared in the middle of Cloud's forehead. Leon hoped he wasn't drooling too much.

"Sorry," he said, giving his head a little shake. "Spaced out. What were you saying about lunch?"

Cloud laughed—possibly at Leon's incoherence, possibly at the vapid expression on his face. "I asked if you wanted to get lunch with me. If you aren't busy, or anything—."

"No," Leon interrupted, standing up. "I mean, no, I'm not busy. Where do you want to go?"

Cloud shrugged, and even that tiny motion looked happier than usual. "I don't care. What are you in the mood for?"

"Anything."

_Anything that will involve staring across a table at you. _

"Alright. How about the Bistro downtown, the one that got held up last month?"

"Le Bistro de Chat Noir." Leon grinned. "What if it gets held up again?"

"Then it'll be a really interesting meal."

That drew a chuckle out of Leon as he grabbed for his keys. "You're awfully chipper this morning," he commented as they left the office, starting down the long, dismally lit hall to the parking lot.

"I don't know why," Cloud said, chuckling. "Everything just seems a little less hopeless than usual today."

Leon had a sudden flaring desire to throw his arms around the man. Not for the usual reason of wanting to fuck him against a wall, but just to hold him. To comfort him.

Hopeless. Everything seemed less hopeless than usual. If that wasn't heart-wrenching, he didn't know what was.

"I'm glad you're feeling better," he said truthfully. He patted him awkwardly on the shoulder, not knowing how much contact he'd actually be allowed. It was odd—before Cloud, Leon had always been the one stepping out of an embrace, brushing off a friendly slap on the back. He suddenly understood what it meant to care for someone so much you never wanted to let them go.

_I'm turning sappy in my old age._

"How are we getting there?" he asked as they pushed through the double doors at the end of the hall. The day was overcast breezy, cooler than it had been in weeks. "Do you want to take my car or—."

"We can take my bike," Cloud said quickly, his cheeks tinged the slightest pink. "I mean, if you don't mind riding behind me."

Leon could feel himself beginning to salivate. Did Cloud have any idea what that had just sounded like? From the sly little grin tugging at his lips, it was plain he did.

_What the hell has gotten into him? _

He wondered this all the way across the parking lot, to Cloud's motorcycle, parked in the same space it had been earlier that week. Once they were into traffic and on their way to the Bistro, however, any coherent thought at all became difficult. He wrapped his arms around Cloud's body like last time, nuzzling into the soft hair at the nape of his neck. He smelled so damn good.

"If you're going to grope me again," Cloud called over the sound of the wind and the engine's rumble, "Can you at least wait until we hit a stoplight?"

"Is that an invitation?" Leon breathed in his ear.

Cloud laughed, but Leon didn't miss the tiny shiver.

_I want him. I want him so god fucking bad. _

It was ridiculous, really. When had his libido become so goddamn difficult to control? He was getting hard again, pressed up against Cloud, and he knew the blonde could tell. His knuckles tightened on the handlebars and his breath sped up. Leon could hear it, feel it.

"Cloud, are you—."

He was cut off as they passed into the intersection, where several things happened in very quick succession. A silver car ran the red light in the oncoming lane, swerving around a delivery van and an ostentatiously shiny SUV. Honks and angry shouts echoed from open windows, and the van slammed on it breaks, skidding heavily and hurtling toward—

Leon and Cloud.

"Shit!" Cloud shouted, have shriek, have yelp, jerking the bike hard to the left. Leon had just enough time to register a wrenching pain in his lower back, before they'd jumped the curb, blasted through a line of shrubbery and taken off down the sidewalk. Everything was a blur of color and motion, and suddenly they were streaking for the back wall of a record store.

A very _solid _back wall.

_We're going to die, _Leon thought, just as Cloud pulled the bike to a screeching, rubber-melting halt. The ride had ended a scant two feet from the wall and certain death. Well, at the very least, broken limbs.

Cloud let out a long breath. "Like I said. Shit."

* * *

"Fuck," Leon hissed through gritted teeth, limping over the threshold and making a grab for the edge of the couch. Cloud stumbled with him, arm wrapped firmly around his waist. 

There wasn't any doubt. Something had definitely popped out of place. His back was killing him, a sharp, fiery ache near the base of his spine. He knew they had been damn lucky, both of them still could have been killed. But still—

"_Fuck._"

"You sprained your spine," Cloud said for about the eighth time. "I'm surprised you can even stand up straight. I wish you'd let me take you to the hospital."

"No," Leon said firmly, gasping inaudibly as he limped to his bedroom.

"Why the hell not?"

Leon glanced over his shoulder, back protesting with a sharp throb. Cloud was standing beside the door, arms crossed, beautiful eyes narrowed. He looked ready for a fight.

"Because," Leon said, a smile tugging at his mouth. "I don't have health insurance." He stumbled the last few feet to his bed, lowering himself down on the mattress. So focused was he on the pain, the grinding of things not meant to be grinding, he didn't even notice Cloud had followed until the blonde knelt beside his bed.

"Will you let me help?" he asked.

For a moment, Leon couldn't make sense of the request. "What?"

Cloud ran his fingers through his spikes, looking rather sheepish. "I…I actually know how to realign a wrenched back. I can…pop it back into place."

Leon raised his eyebrows. "Are you serious? How did you learn that?"

"I-I was…I was pre-med for two years. Wanted to be a doctor. Here." He sat down awkwardly on the edge of the bed. "Do you think…do you think you could get your shirt off?"

Leon could hardly believe the role reversal. A few nights ago it had been himself leaning over Cloud, asking the same question. He grunted, working his hands under his body and slowly tugging at the buttons of his navy blue shirt. It hurt like a son of a bitch, but he managed to wrestle it off and throw the damn thing on the floor.

"What now?" he asked.

Cloud's eyes darted from his face to the tanned expanse of his back. He wasn't sure what the blond was thinking, but he could dream…

Was it possible Cloud wanted to touch Leon as badly as Leon want to touch him?

"Well, go ahead. Fix me." He tried to sound as disinterested as possible

Cloud moved overtop of him, pausing a moment before straddling his legs. Leon smirked into the pillow, imagining what this would look like to anyone who happened to walk in. The smirk turned quickly to a grimace of pain, however, when Cloud applied pressure to the base of his spine.

"Does that hurt?"

"Yes," Leon growled.

"What about this?"

"Shit! Yes, dammit."

"And this?"

"Fuck, Cloud. I'm going to kick your ass!"

"Oh really?" Leon could practically hear the smirk in his voice. "I'm sure you will, if kicking my ass doesn't involve sitting up or using any of your limbs."

"Fuck you."

"Is that an invitation?"

Leon couldn't respond to that with anything besides shocked silence. For a second or to, at least.

"Strife, are you high?"

Cloud spread his hands over his lower back, thumbs feeling the individual vertebrae. "Huh?"

Leon bit back a gasping curse. "I said—shit, that hurts! I said, are you high? Or has another personality taken over?"

He received no answer, just a little extra pressure on his wrenched back. Leon conceded the point for the time being, letting himself relax into the mattress, head propped on a pillow. The sun had begun to set, sending bands of gold and honey light creeping through the shaded window, lengthening the shadows on the wall.

"I don't think you've got a slipped disc," Cloud informed him after a few minutes of feeling around. "It just needs to be cracked, really."

"So, crack it already."

"It'll hurt," Cloud said.

Leon snorted into the pillow. "I'm a big kid, Strife. I can handle it."

"Alright."

Warm hands kneaded at the stiff muscles on either side of his spine, where his sides met his hips. It felt unexpectedly good, and Leon had to hold back a moan.

"Fuck!" he yelled, as Cloud leaned forward, scooping a hand under his armpit and pulling him up off the mattress. His other hand pressed down, pushing him down into the bed. And, oh yes, something definitely cracked. The pain was unbelievable for a moment, white hot, before Cloud let him go.

"All done."

"God dammit," Leon growled. Despite the lingering agony, it did feel like something had snapped back into place. Strife obviously knew his shit.

"Any better?" the blond inquired, voice alarmingly close to Leon's ear. His palms were splayed over Leon's upper back, hot and heavy. He was glad he was currently still incapacitated, or it would have been very difficult to keep from pinning him to the bed and—

"Shit, Leon, you're shoulders are like a rock."

And then he was kneading and rubbing, messaging Leon's upper back and neck with those elegant fingers. It felt so good, like his muscles were melting under his touch, sending warmth to the pit of his belly, but…

This was just getting ridiculous.

"Strife."

Exerting a greater effort than he would have liked to admit, Leon managed to roll over onto his side. He was still a little sore, but the pain was no longer excruciating. Cloud was still partially straddling his thighs, up on his knees, hair messy from their adventure on the motorcycle, eyes wide with innocence.

"What's wrong?"

"Strife. Cloud. What are you doing? No, don't look at your hands, goddammmit, look at me." He took a shaky, calming breath. "Stop leading me on."

He expected Cloud to shut down, blush, stutter how he was so, so sorry. Either that, or freak out. Instead he let out a small chuckle, untangling his legs from Leon's. He sat back on the bed, running his fingers through his hair.

"Yeah. Sorry about that." He gave a wry smile. "Guess you noticed, huh?"

"Cloud, you're practically throwing yourself at me. What the fuck are you doing?"

Cloud hadn't dropped his smile, which was one of the most self-deprecating expressions Leon had ever seen. His fingers (damn, those fingers had felt good) moved to fiddle with the cuffs of his shirt.

"Do you remember when I told you I didn't like guys?"

Leon raised an eyebrow. "Yeah."

"I think I lied."

_No shit, Sherlock. _

The blush was back. So was the annoying tendency to look everywhere but at the person he was conversing with. "I thought that maybe…" He made a face. "I sound like such an idiot. I thought that if I got you to initiate something, I would finally know if I was gay or not. If I, you know, reciprocated."

Leon just stared for a moment, mouth open. Once again, Cloud had managed to complicate something incomparably simple.

"Strife," he began, in a tone that suggested he was speaking to a very slow first-grader. "Here's a test. Think about fucking a dude. You'll either feel like vomiting, or go all tingly inside. Which is it?"

Cloud sat there, head bowed, as if he were thinking very, very hard. A slow, pale blush spread over his cheeks and down his neck.

"Tingly it is," Leon decided, unable to keep the smile off his face. He'd known it, known it all along, but—

"Hey, where are you going?"

Cloud had gotten up off the bed and headed for the door. He glanced over his shoulder.

"I'm going to call Sephiroth back. He wanted to take me to dinner tonight as, you know, a date. I told him I wasn't sure, but now I am."

With a last shrug, he left the room, headed no doubt for the phone in the kitchen.

Leon sat on his bed as the sun sank below the horizon, filling the room with the first breath of twilight. He was filled with a overpowering desire to shove his fist through a wall. Sephiroth, goddamn Sephiroth.

_It's hilarious, really, _he thought, clenching his fists. _Of course even after he realized he was gay, why in fucking hell would he ever want me? _

* * *

Yes, it sucks hard and I know it. I'm sorry, things have just gotten really crazy.

Before anyone freaks out, don't worry. They're going to get together soon, never fear! I just have to put Leon through some anguish first.

By the way, if anyone wants to read an original slash story I've written, check the link on my profile.


	18. Out of Place

Disclaimer: Hey! Yes, you! I don't own Kingdom Hearts!

Hello everyone! I know it's been about a month, and I apologize for that, but I've been doing homework, dealing with emotional breakdowns (both my own and that of friends) and I've been working on a lot of original fiction. And getting my college friends into Kingdom Hearts! My two best friends here, girls name Renee and Sonja, play Kingdom Hearts 2 with me almost every night. One of them will call up and be like, "You wanna battle the darkness, Rayne?" And I'll be like, "Uh, duh!"  
There's some gasp hetero sex in this chapter. Oh my.

Chapter 18

Out of Place

* * *

Sora drummed his fingers on the countertop, glancing at the clock on the wall for the sixth time in as many minutes. His foot tapped out a steady staccato on the stone tile floor.

Riku set down his coffee mug, glancing up from the political magazine he was currently immersed in. Apparently, the government was fucked. No big surprise there.

"Sora, baby, chill out. Either he's coming or he's not. Don't stress. You'll just give yourself an ulcer."

His boyfriend sagged onto the counter, burying his spiky brown head in his hands and heaving a muffled sigh. The old sweatshirt of Riku's he was wearing practically swallowed him, leaving his skinny frame looking even smaller than usual. Riku frowned. He'd have to make the damn kid eat more. Food, that is.

"I know, Ri," Sora answered, speaking into the countertop. "I'm just worried I fucked everything up." He raised his head, big blue eyes full of more concern and worry than they were ever meant to. "I mean, Roxas was gone—we thought he was dead—and now, I've miraculously found him and he's pissed at me."

Riku shrugged, sipping at his coffee. It was a dark, aromatic roast, something his father got shipped from the mainland. "Well, no offense, Sora, but I'd be kind of pissed too. Just listen!" he said hastily, holding up his hands, as Sora gave him a wide-eyed, 'you're fucking kidding me' look. "You walk in and completely refuse to accept the reason for why he ran away. He's really messed up right now. And he's sick. You don't even know what he's been through this last year."

"Because he won't tell me!" Sora snapped, banging a hand down on the counter. There were tears in his eyes now, glistening and lightening the vibrant blue. "He didn't tell me anything! He didn't even fucking call me!"

Riku dropped his magazine on the kitchen table, getting to his feet and pulling his boyfriend away from the counter and into his arms. He kissed the top of his spiky head, holding him close.

"Don't freak out, Sora. Hey!" he chided, when Sora looked away. "Look at me. He's coming, he's probably just—."

Riku's assurances were rendered obsolete by the deep, imposing bong of the mansion's doorbell. Sora made a frenzied little motion with his hands, trying to push his way out of the crushing embrace.

Riku chuckled, breathing warm air onto his neck. "Chill. Mrs. Pots'll get it. It's what a housekeeper does."

Sora relented, though not without sticking out his lower lip in a prominent pout. "I still can't believe she walked in on us fucking," he muttered.

"I can," Riku admitted, running a hand over the spiky head pressed into his chest. "We weren't as careful as we could have been. I mean, we didn't even lock the goddamn door. It was only a matter of time before someone found out. I'm just glad it was Mrs. Pots and not my parents."

"Yeah," Sora allowed. "But it's still really awkward. I haven't been able to look at her."

"I know, she mentioned it to me."

Sora's look of dismay was so instantaneous and heartfelt that Riku just had to laugh. He pulled the brunette closer, kissing him on the top of his head again, feeling his warmth seep through their clothes. They were still standing there like this, wrapped in each other's arms, when Roxas and Axel clattered into the room.

"Hey, kitchen sex, my favorite thing," Axel threw out. The comment sounded more routine than anything, as if he couldn't enter a room without saying something potentially scathing and provocative. Honestly, he didn't seem as though his heart was in it. One of his hands was entwined with Roxas', the other fiddling with the buttons on his shirt. He definitely seemed to be going for a new look. His usual rebellious rich kid attire had been replaced by a dark navy jacket, black pants, and a white button-down shirt. They hung off his skinny frame awkwardly.

Roxas was as decked out as usual, in a studded black vest, tight, raggedy jeans, red and blue striped tie. Eyeliner that looked purposely smudged decorated his eyes. Apart from his rather ostentatious appearance, he looked a lot healthier than he had the last time Riku had seen him.

"Hey, Roxas!" Sora called, in a forced-cheerful voice that didn't convince anyone. He pushed his way out of the circle of Riku's arms, and this time he let him go. "What's up?"

Roxas folded his arms and cocked an eyebrow. "I don't know, Sor. What is up?" His expression wasn't welcoming.

Sora took a tiny step backward, as if Roxas' voice was a physical force, a whip brandished across his back.

"Rox…"

"Why the hell are we even here for, Axel?" Roxas entreated his boyfriend. "I can't believe you dragged me out of bed for this."

Axel shrugged fleetingly. It looked like he really didn't want to get involved in a family feud. Riku couldn't blame him.

"Look, Rox. You're goddamn cousin calls me all teary and shit—."

"I wasn't teary!" Sora interrupted angrily. "I was just really worried—."

Axel went on like he hadn't even spoken, "—Saying he has no way to get in touch with you and that he's all worried you'll run off again. Told him not to worry. Said I'd get you over here."

"Everyone's against me," Roxas said, stating it more like an observation than an accusation.

Riku turned to his boyfriend, dismayed by the stricken expression on Sora's face. "Why don't you and Roxas go up to my room and talk?"

Sora appeared to blanch at the very thought. Roxas made a disgusted sound in his throat, crossing his arms and fixing Riku with a scorching glare of hostility.

"That is so _not _happening."

Axel laid a steadying hand on the blond's shoulder. "Roxas…Do it, okay? The angst is really starting to piss me off."

Roxas sighed. "Fine." He reached back, grabbing Axel's arms and wrapping himself in their embrace. "But you owe me." He grinned up impishly.

Axel smiled, a deep fondness in his eyes that Riku never would have thought possible from such an asshole. Or, from an ex-asshole. He hadn't exactly been so awful lately. Maybe it was Roxas' influence, but after seeing the boy's temper, Riku doubted he'd be a good candidate to teach tact.

Sora was looking at Roxas expectantly, his motions cautious as he gestured to the far door. It had taken about half a week of getting lost, but Sora was now pretty well adjusted to Riku's massive house. He led the way out of the kitchen, Roxas trailing along in his wake, looking grumpy.

Riku and Axel were left in a veritable ocean of awkward silence.

"So…" Axel cracked his knuckles uncomfortable.

Riku jerked his head toward the table. "Coffee?"

Axel grinned a little. "Got anything stronger?"

"Not at ten o'clock in the morning."

The grin widened just a bit. "Coffee's fine."

Riku took another mug down the cupboard and filled it, savoring the smell as it wafted up to him. He'd made it for he and Sora about a half an hour ago. Mrs. Pots always brewed the coffee for his parents, but she knew he liked to do it himself. It was personal—like pumping your own gas. It just tasted better when he made it.

"Cream?"

Axel shook his head. "Naw, black is good."

Riku gave him a pitying look. "You sure? This shit is strong."

"Just gimme the goddamn coffee, Erickson."

"Okay, okay," Riku mumbled sardonically, sliding the mug down the counter. Axel threw it back like he was taking a shot. A hot, highly caffeinated shot.

"That's not too bad," he mused, slamming the mug down with a heavy _chink_.

Riku had the decency to look impressed. "Wow. Guess you're not a pussy after all."

_Just figures. Sora and Roxas go upstairs to argue and we bond over coffee. Life is weird. _

_------------_

"Isn't Riku's house great?"

Roxas turned from where he'd been surveying the view from the bedroom window. He shrugged. "I guess."

Sora sat down on the edge of the mattress, fingers plucking nervously at his T-shirt. "I was staying with Kairi at the beginning of the summer, but her parents didn't know about it, and they came home early from vacation, so…yeah." He trailed off uncertainly as Roxas' annoyed expression didn't abate. If anything it intensified. "Rox…I…"

"Yeah?" Roxas crossed his arms, leaning back against the windowsill.

Sora knew what he wanted to say. He'd gone over what he would say to his cousin if he ever got him alone. He knew exactly how he wanted to apologize. Or at least, he had. He rehearsed it. But now…

Now it felt like there wasn't really anything for him to apologize for.

"Why are you so mad at me?" he burst out. "Why did you kick me out the other day?"

Roxas stared at him for a few seconds. He laughed after a moment, dropping his eyes to the floor. "Are you serious, Sor? You really don't know why I'm pissed? Hmmm…" He mimed remembering. "Maybe…because you accused me of being a liar?"

"I never said you lied!" Sora said hastily. "I just said that you must of misunderstood—."

"I didn't misunderstand anything, Sora!" Roxas' voice rang out shrill and unnatural, and it took a moment for his cousin to realize he was holding back tears. Not once in all the years he'd known him, had Sora ever seen Roxas cry. Not when his parents died, not when he'd been beaten up at school for kissing a boy who'd turned out to be straight and an asshole. Never. Now, the corners of his eyes swam and danced with unshed tears.

"Rox…"

But the blonde was shaking his head. "Don't you dare 'Rox' me. I lived with all that shit for half a year, Sora! I couldn't do it anymore!"

"You mean Steven, right?" Sora prompted. "You thought he treated you like shit?"

A dark flush was spreading over Roxas' cheeks, but instead of looking angry it just seemed more and more likely that he was about to burst into tears. "I didn't 'think' anything, Sora! I couldn't live in that house! I couldn't come home from school everyday and be afraid of running into my uncle!"

"Was he really that horrible to you?"

"Yes!" Roxas' hands were clenched, a mirror-image of Sora whenever he was pushed to the limit. "Yes, Sora, he was!"

Roxas spun on the spot, raising a fist like he was about to punch something, then realized he was facing a fancy crystal-cut window, and changed trajectory. He threw himself onto the ground instead, burying his spiky blonde head in his hands. "Shit," he muttered. "I'm fucked, Sor."

Sora wasn't sure if his cousin was crying, but he could feel tears starting in his own eyes. Roxas was curled up in a ball on the carpet, shoulders shaking. His vest was riding up his midriff, baring his distressingly thin abdomen, skin almost ghostly pale against the dark material. A year and a half ago Sora had been the skinny one, the one everyone was always telling to go eat a piece of cake.

"Roxas…you're not fucked."

The blonde laughed bitterly, voice muffled against the carpet. "Oh yeah?" He raised his head, blue eyes that looked so much like Sora's narrowed in accusation. "Really, Sor? I'm not fucked? I'm the goddamn definition of fucked!"

"Roxas…"

Sora slid off the bed, crawling to his cousin and pulling him into a hug. He honestly expected him to resist, but Roxas clung to his waist like a drowning man. His skinny shoulders shook as he cried silently, cheek pressed to Sora's shoulder.

"There's nowhere for me to go from here, Sor." He spoke so quietly Sora had to strain to hear him over his own shallow breaths. "I dropped out of high school, I have nowhere to live, and now I'm gonna get really sick because I can't afford to eat red meat and green leafy vegetables!"

That shocked a laugh out of Sora, though he felt like apologizing for it the moment afterward. He wasn't exactly sure if Roxas had meant it as a joke or not.

Stroking his fingers slowly through his cousin's hair, he asked, "What about Axel?"

Roxas' breathing hitched a little. "What about him?"

"He loves you, doesn't he?" Sora asked quietly.

A moment of hesitation before, "He says he does."

"And you don't believe him?"

Roxas raised his head slowly, pushing the spiky, limp hair out of his eyes, which were red and puffy with tears. He sniffed once, scrubbing the back of his hand against his face.

"I don't know," he admitted. "I fucked him two hours after we met, with about six shots of Vodka in my system. I'm surprised either of us was even able to get it up." He laughed, low and self-deprecating. "He'd never been with a dude before—I had to talk him through it." The laugh that followed this pronouncement was a little happier, a little lighter. "In the morning he told me he was a rich kid from the Boulevard, and that he had a long-term girlfriend."

"That must of sucked," Sora commented.

Roxas shrugged. "Not really. I was kind of just confused. I couldn't really remember what had happened the night before, but he reminded me."

"How?"

Roxas was pulling himself out of his cousin's embrace, scooting back to sit braced against the wall beneath window. He smiled faintly. "By kissing me. A lot. In a bunch of different places."  
Sora smiled back. It was impossible to describe how happy he was that Roxas was finally opening up to him, that they weren't fighting.

"Wasn't he weirded out that he'd just had sex with a boy?" he asked, wanting Roxas to keep talking, not really caring what the subject was. It just felt good to hear his cousin's voice free of hate or cynicism.

The blond shook his head. "Not really. He told me he'd always kind of knew he liked guys too, he'd just…you know, repressed."

"Makes sense," Sora allowed.

"Yeah. Anyway, he kept coming back to see me, as soon as he could get away from that Tifa whore." He glanced up. "You know her?"

"Oh, yeah," Sora answered. "Kairi is kind of friends with her."

Roxas expression turned hostile. "Isn't she a bitch?"

Sora shrugged, scratching his cheek idelly. "Well, yeah, but if it hadn't been for her I never would have met Riku."

"Really?" Roxas asked, looking interested. "How did that go down?"

Blushing lightly, Sora swiftly relayed his adventures of several weeks ago, when he'd been dared to enter a seemingly empty mansion by the sea.

"…And then he grabbed me and pulled me into the bathroom and—."

"Bent you over the sink?" Roxas guessed.

Sora blushed harder. "No. For your information, I didn't have sex with him for about…a week and a half…"

"So little Sora finally lost his virginity?" Roxas sing-songed. "About time."

"Hey, fuck you! Just 'cause I didn't start having sex when I was fourteen…"

"Fourteen and three quarters, actually," Roxas corrected silkily.

It was then that Sora realized that everything was going to be alright.

* * *

"I don't understand why you can't just stay with me."

Vincent glanced up from where he'd been pulling on his sweater. His hair was dripping wet from the shower, droplets of water sliding down the planes of his shoulders and chest. Yuffie mourned the disappearance of all that bare skin beneath the black material.

"I'm not safe anywhere. As long as Ansem's alive and looking for me, I'm a liability for anyone around me." He crossed the room, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "I don't want you to get hurt."

Yuffie gave him a shove. "You asshole. I don't give a shit. I'm not scared," she added resolutely.

Vincent smiled, cupping her chin, something wildly happy shining in his scarlet eyes. "I know you aren't scared. But you live with your parents, don't you? They probably wouldn't be too pleased with you bringing a twenty-two year old man home with you. Especially one who looks like me."

"Like a vampire, you mean?" Yuffie giggled. "But you're right. I didn't think of that."

"I have somewhere to stay, don't worry about it."

"It's just…" Yuffie grinned, as devilishly as she could. "I'm gonna miss you." She leaned forward, kissing him on the neck, sucking and licking the skin over the warm, pounding pulse. Vincent shuddered.

"Yuffie…" His voice was low and shaky. "Yuffie, please…I just put my clothes on."

Yuffie kissed up to his mouth, standing on tiptoe. "Yeah, well…you can take them off, can't you?"

"Yuffie…"

His hands were moving up her body, slipping over her ribs and kneading her breasts. Yuffie moaned, heat and arousal flashing through her. No one had ever affected her like this before—been able to turn her into a shuddering mound of hormones with a single touch.

Vincent had said they needed to get going, but that didn't mean they didn't have time for a quickie…

"We really should…"

"Shut up," Yuffie ordered, pulling him toward the motel bed. "Stop being so damn responsible."

Vincent seemed to waver for another moment, but her hand pressed between his legs, and he quickly made up his mind. He pushed her down against the mattress. The sheets smelled like mildew and cigarettes, but Vincent was all warmth and a deep, musky smell. She breathed in deeply, pressing her face into the crook of his neck.

His hands were slowly making their way up under her skirt, and she gasped as one of his fingers brushed over the most sensitive point of her body. His fingers fought past the cloth of her underwear, and she tipped her head back as he messaged her with a practiced touch.

"Vincent…"

She rocked against his hand, squeezing her eyes shut as his fingers began to move faster. He'd unbuttoned her shirt, and his mouth went to her small breast, sucking and licking the hardening nipple.

"Fuck, Vincent," she gasped out.

He chuckled against her chest. "If you insist."

His fingers flicked a few more times. Yuffie could feel heat spreading through her, before she was coming, body shaking against Vincent's. He didn't stop, just kept moving his hand, until she was wet and writhing in his arms.

"Vince…Vincent, goddammmit!"

He nipped her collarbone, moving down her body, tugging off her underwear, tossing it away carelessly. Yuffie watched him unbutton his pants, drawing out his erect cock and giving it a couple strokes. He pushed into her slowly, and she wrapped her legs around his waist.

Yuffie had lost her virginity when she was fourteen, to a boy five years older than her. She wasn't particularly proud of it, but she didn't think of the experience as a glaring mistake on her life's recording. It had actually been kind of fun, being knowledgeable about things her friends could only speculate on. Whatever the case, the guy's dick had been huge, and she'd been sore for about two days afterward. The rest of the boyfriends hadn't been that much better. They hadn't _hurt _her, but they'd been clumsy and usually inept when it came to the finer points of making sex good for the woman. Vincent, to put it lightly, kicked ass.

"Mmmm…" Yuffie hummed, rolling her hips against his body. Vincent was panting, eyes closed as he thrust into her. He moved slow, as if they had all day. The man never made much noise during sex, nothing more than ragged breathing. Yuffie would have to work on that some time.

She buried her hands in his hair. "Open your eyes," she ordered quietly, words bitten off at the end by a little gasp. "Look at me."

Vincent twisted his hips, raising his head, eyes slowly sliding open to reveal the glow of red in their depths. His expression was cautious, almost shy. He looked so vulnerable during sex, that Yuffie couldn't help pulling him down for a soft kiss.

He was, without any doubt, one of a kind.

* * *

Reno stumbled out of the master bedroom, hopping on one foot as he finished pulling up his pants. His hair was in disarray, eyes foggy with sleep, looking for all the world like he'd just been ravaged all night. Which was unlikely, as he'd gone to sleep by himself the evening before.

Axel and Roxas watched from the bar, where they were sharing a box of donuts they'd picked up on their way back from Riku's mansion, as Reno tripped his way over to the phone cradle on the counter. It had been ringing for about the last minute and a half, and had begun to give Roxas a nagging headache. Reno slammed his hand down on the speaker button.

"What?" he snapped at the kitchen in general.

"Reno?" The voice issuing from the speaker was soft and smooth. Satiny. "Is that you?"

"You better believe it, asshole," Reno answered jauntily. "What you doing calling someone so early in the fucking morning?"

The caller hesitated for a moment. "Reno, it's after eleven."

"Besides the point."

"Is Rufus in?" the man on the line asked, sounding terribly amused.

"Who the hell wants to know?"

The caller laughed. "Still the same as ever, Reno. It's Valentine."

"Valentine?" Reno suddenly looked absolutely gleeful. "You vampire son of a bitch, where the fuck have you been?"

"Here and there. I need a favor. Is Rufus around?"

Reno leaned on the counter, one hand scratching at the back of his head. "He's on a business trip, babe." He paused to yawn. "Not gonna be back till next week."

The man on the other side of the line—Valentine—let out a quiet sigh. "I need a place to stay, Reno. Just for a little while."

Reno slid Axel and Roxas a glance. "I'd love to provide, babe, but I already got a couple'a houseguests in the spare bedroom. Unless, a'course, ya wanna sleep with me."

Valentine let out that velvety laugh again. "I'll take the couch, Reno, and I can pay you."

"Fuck that, I don't want your money, Vincent." He gave a long, dramatic sigh. "Whatever, get your ass over here. But you're going to explain to Rufus why his penthouse is full of men."

"I thought he liked men," Valentine chuckled.

"Not straight men like you, baby. I could always help prove you weren't straight you know. Maybe with a little demonstration."

"In your debauched, lunatic dreams, Reno. I'll be over there in an hour." The phone clicked off, leaving the dial tone to buzz. Reno turned the speaker off.

"Well, I'll be damned," he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. "Vincent Valentine."

"Who the fuck is that?" Axel asked, taking a big, sloppy bite of jelly donut.

"Language, baby brother," Reno admonished. "Vincent Valentine happens to be a former business associate of the boss, and a damn sexy bitch. Straight as a board, though."

"So he's gonna be staying here?" Roxas asked, licking powder off his fingers, a process that he noticed Axel was eyeing with great interest.

Reno shrugged, leaning against the counter and folding his arms. "I guess. Place is turning into a goddamn halfway house."

"Will Rufus be pissed?" Axel asked, tearing his attention away from Roxas' agile use of his tongue.

"Not if I give him a really good excuse not to be," Reno answered slyly.

Roxas raised a brow. "You fuck your boss?"

"Sometimes." Reno was selecting a coffee mug from the tree beside the sink, pouring out a steaming cup from the slick silver auto-drip. "Depends on what we're in the mood for."

"So, friends with benefits?"

Axel snorted into his own mug of coffee. "More like, master and bitch."

"Hey, fuck you," Reno chirped from the fridge, where he was now pouring copious amounts of milk into his coffee. "There's nothing wrong with liking the kinky stuff. And I'm not _always _on the bottom." He drained his mug, so fast that you'd have thought he was gulping down water. He slammed it down on the countertop. "Anyway, I got some shit to get done before Vincent gets here. You bitches play nice." He glanced back over his shoulder on his way out, blazer slung over one arm. "Try not to get any fluids on the furniture, cool?"

Roxas laughed. "My god, is he crude," he said as the front door slammed.

Axel grinned back, lifting a shoulder in half a shrug. "Try living with him for fifteen years."

"No thank you," the blonde sniggered, leaning into Axel, kissing him on the side of the neck. "I'm so glad you're here."

"Hey, happy to be here," Axel answered, wrapping his arms around the skinny boy, slightly taken aback. Roxas had been strangely affectionate all morning, stealing nips and kisses whenever he got the chance. Evidently, that chat with his cousin had left him abnormally needy.

They stretched out on the couch after Reno had gone, spooned together. The television was on but neither of them was really watching it. The leather felt good against their skin, cooled by the recirculation of the penthouse's powerful air conditioning. Axel ran his finger's through Roxas hair.

"So…how'd it go with Sora?"

Roxas shrugged against him. "Okay, I guess. Finally got him to believe about Steve and all that bullshit. Told him about how we met."

"Really?" Axel asked. "Did he agree it names us the ultimate sluts?"

The blonde's shoulder shook with his laughter. "Yeah, kind of. He said at least he didn't feel so bad about sleeping with Riku after just a week—."

He broke off, as Axel slid a hand across his inner thigh and kissed the back of his neck, sucking on the damp skin. It tasted like salt and musk and Roxas.

"You're brother told us…" Roxas sucked in a breath as Axel's palm kneaded his crotch. "—Not to get anything on the furniture…"

"So we won't take our pants off," Axel mumbled into the curve of his shoulder, biting down. "He won't be back for awhile anyway. Plenty of time for us to get off." He slid the fly of Roxas' jeans down, hand worming in deftly, wrapping around his hardening dick. Roxas groaned, rolling his hips as best he could pressed up against Axel as he was.

The redhead gave him a squeeze, rubbing the head with his thumb, giving it just the slightest touch of a nail. Roxas let out a little shuddering sigh, grinding back against the bulge in Axel's own pants.

"Mmmm…Ax, stop teasing…"

Axel chuckled deep and husky. "I can tease all I want," he whispered, flicking his wrist and beginning to stroke.

* * *

Cloud was careful to take small sips of wine that night at dinner. He had no desire to repeat the drunken stupor he'd spent his first date with Sephiroth in. They'd met at a resturaunt downtown, nothing too elegant; Sephiroth must have known too much finery would have made Cloud uncomfortable, but definitely way out of his own price range.

When they'd first walked into the restaurant, Cloud had been half-expecting to receive scathing looks from the occupants. They were, after all, very obviously two fully grown men out on a date. But to his surprise the wait staff had greeted Sephiroth by name, the hostess inquiring as to who the gorgeous young man on his arm was. Cloud had been led over to Sephiroth's 'usual' table beside the window, and presented with a menu thick with curly gold lettering.

The meal had been delicious (some braised chicken dish with onions and carrots) and the wine was by far the best he'd ever had. And Sephiroth hadn't been able to keep his eyes off him. The silver-haired man barely seemed aware of the meal, or of the food he was slowly consuming. Cloud imagined he could have traded his fish with sawdust and he wouldn't have batted an eyelid.  
It was flattering, and at the same time…a little creepy. He felt like he was an expensive piece of art Sephiroth had just bought for his own, and he was about to be taken home and admired.

Still, he couldn't deny the slow, constant shivers flickering across his skin and through his stomach as those jade-green eyes devoured him. Sephiroth's fingers were deft and elegant as swirled the wine in his goblet, the crimson flashing in the light, and Cloud found himself imagining what it would be like to be touched by those fingers, those hands.

Whatever the case, he couldn't resist when Sephiroth leaned across the table and murmured, "Can I convince you to come home with me?"

Sephiroth's 'home' turned out to be an apartment in the center of town, high above the noise and lights of the city. It was dark when they entered, the only light fighting its way in through the slits in the blinds over the long windows.

"I hope you don't mind if we keep it dark in here," Sephiroth said, a low, flickering flame leaping up, flashing on his silvery hair and gleaming eyes. He lit a long row of candles on the mantelpiece. "I much prefer candlelight to electricity."

"It's fine," Cloud said, though his nerves were slowly mounting. Expensive dinner, candles, romantic mood…what was Sephiroth expecting? Sex? A declaration of love?

"Do you mind if I go change out of this?" Sephiroth asked, lighting the last candle and gesturing down at his slacks and suit jacket. "Just to be more comfortable."

"Sure," Cloud shrugged, feeling more out of place by the minute. "It's your house."

Sephiroth gave him a pleased little grin and strode of down the dark hall, long fall of silvery hair shining in the candlelight. What was it worth betting he'd come back out naked?

He sighed, wondering if this had been a bad idea. Sephiroth had picked him up from Leon's apartment; he had no way to get home. He tried stretching out on the white leather couch in the living room, but Cloud couldn't get comfortable. He paced back and forth instead.

Reaching a decision, he reached into his pocket and drew out his phone. He flipped it open and found Leon's number. The line rang four times, before the machine clicked on.

"Hey, this is Leon. Leave a message." The recording was brusque and to the point, and Cloud couldn't help the smile that spread over his face at the thought of Leon's face while he recorded it.

"Hey…Leon, it's Cloud. I'm at Sephiroth's apartment…it's downtown, 24 Harrington, apartment 543. Uh…could you come pick me up? I…uh…I don't really want to be here. Sorry to bother you about this….uh…yeah. Thanks."

He flipped the phone shut and resumed his pacing.

"Are you worried about something?"

Sephiroth had returned, dressed in nothing but a pair of cloth sleeping pants. He had fantastic abs, and sharp, prominent hip bones. They protruded over the waistband of the pants, which were riding dangerously low.

"No," Cloud answered quickly, too quickly to sound completely honest. Sephiroth just gave him a little smirk, crossing the room to a small bar that stood beside the door to another long hallway.

"Would you like something to drink?" he asked, stepping behind it and trailing long fingers over bottles stacked in a row.

Cloud gave a nervous little chuckle. "Because we know how well that went the other night."

Sephiroth laughed, shaking his silvery hair back from his face, making Cloud's stomach give the customary little jump. "Come on now, Cloud. I found that endearing."

"I was so drunk I couldn't stand up straight!" the blonde protested, waving his arms in emphasis.

Sephiroth chose a squat, opaque bottle. "Well, you agreed to model for me, and you leaned against my shoulder the whole drive home to your apartment." He slid a glass down the bar, pushing it toward Cloud. "If that was the whisky, than I owe it some gratitude."

Cloud took a sip of the drink to cover up his blush. It was nowhere as strong as what he'd drunk the other night—more sweet than anything else. He figured it would be okay.

Sephiroth poured a drink for himself, the same thing he'd given Cloud but without any ice. "Have a seat, Cloud, your pacing is making me queasy."

Cloud smiled apologetically, sitting down and trying to steady his pounding heart. How long would it take Leon to get his message?

_Why am I so worried? _he demanded of himself. _I'm a grownup. I've go no one to answer to. And it's not like Sephiroth is going to hurt me or anything…_

* * *

Sorry about the cliffhanger! It won't take so long this time, I promise.

Please review!


	19. Castles Burning

Once again, I apologize for the extreme lack of updates. I had finals and projects and all that other awful stuff. And I've been working on a lot of original stories, so that eats a lot of my time.

There was a scene in this chapter that was very difficult for me to write, which also added to the delay, as I continued to put it off. I'm still not entirely happy with it, well, I guess we'll see.

But, on the lighter side, this chapter includes a scene that a bunch of you have been waiting for!

Chapter 19

Castles Burning

* * *

Reno showed up again toward late afternoon and, true to his word, before the illusive Vincent Valentine. Axel and Roxas had long since cleaned themselves up (which had involved some wet, soapy shower groping) and readjusted the couch, checking it for any incriminating liquids. They were cuddled close together, Roxas spiky head resting on Axel's bony shoulder, when Reno banged in.

"Hey, bitches," he greeted them, tossing his keys and wallet onto the counter and collapsing onto a leather armchair.

"Where's your friend?" Roxas asked, lifting his head up.

Reno shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe he got killed on the way."

"That would suck."

"Yeah. He's nice eye candy."

Axel laughed, the sound vibrating low in his chest, rumbling against Roxas' ear. It made the blond feel safe, and the pale arms wrapped around his shoulders made him feel loved. He tipped his head up, trailing butterfly kisses over the curve of Axel's jaw. The redhead's breath caught just a little, making Roxas smile.

"I missed you, little brother," Reno said suddenly, examining his fingernails. "Glad you came by."

"No problem," Axel replied, sounding a little thrown.

"Now please don't make out in front of me." Reno covered the awkward movement smoothly, getting to his feet and moseying off down the hall.

"What was that about?" Roxas asked.

Axel shrugged. "Reno's not too good with expressing himself. Kind of like me, I guess."

Roxas sighed sleepily, burying his head into Axel's chest.

"Tired?"

The blond nodded, attempting to suppress a yawn. "Yeah. Don't know why though, all I did today was yell at Sora and lie around with you."

"Yeah, well that can be—."

Axel's words were cut off by the chime of the doorbell. Reno practically charged out of his bedroom, halfway through undressing, nothing on but boxers and a single sock. He opened the front door of the penthouse, bowing cheekily.

"Welcome to my humble abode, oh sexy warrior."

"Hey, watch your mouth."

A female voice had answered Reno, one that Axel thought he recognized, though it was so out of its element here it took him a moment to place it.

Two people followed Reno into the living room, the first a tall, black-haired man with eyes the color wine. He was stunning, but it was a cold beauty, like a pale, marble statue in a courtyard. Definitely not Axel's type. The other person was—

"Yuffie?"

Yuffie put her hands on her hips, cocking an eyebrow. "Axel? What the fuck are you doing here?"

Reno looked between the two of them. "You two know each other?"

"Hell yeah we do," Yuffie said. "Friends from school."

Vincent's lips quirked up. "Small world," he said, giving Yuffie a very recognizable look. The one of a man completely infatuated. Axel knew it was the expression he often wore whenever he was with Roxas.

Reno was looking Yuffie over, arms crossed over his skinny chest. "This your girlfriend, Valentine?" Yuffie grabbed Vincent's hand possessively, as if she could sense Reno's less than pure intentions. "Kind of scrawny, ain't she?"

"Uh, Bro?" Axel called from the couch, sitting up a little further, letting Roxas slide off his lap. "I'd watch it if I were you. She'll fuck you up."

Yuffie nodded jauntily. "Yep. He's right, asshole." She glanced at Axel. "This your brother?" When he nodded she turned back to Reno, looking him up and down as shamelessly as he had her. "I can see the family resemblance. Ridiculous hair and and attitude that makes you wanna shove your head through the wall."

"Now that we've had this happy reunion," Vincent spoke, his voice cool and calm, slicing through the banter like a scythe. "I'd like to speak to Reno alone."

Axel was expecting his brother to make a lude joke or two, maybe grab his crotch, stick a hand down his boxers, but the redhead just nodded, the look on his face one of the most serious he'd ever seen on him.

"We can use Rufus' room."

* * *

Leon had a definite plan for the evening. Sit in the dark, drink, and angst.

The living room window was open, coaxing in the non-existent summer breeze. It was an uncomfortable night, stuffy and unsettled, the air charged with the threat of an approaching storm. Leon thought he could almost taste the trapped the lighting, smell the hint of rain in the air. Or that could have just been the tequila talking.

He slumped on the couch, valiantly trying to forget the fact he'd just been thoroughly and spectacularly rejected. Cloud was out with Sephiroth.

Leon threw back another shot, relishing the slow burn down his throat. Of course Cloud was out with Sephiroth. The guy had absolutely everything. He was gorgeous, suave, rich, and connected. Leon was a B-list director with absolutely no prospects and a shitty, low-rent studio apartment downtown.

_Cloud, all I got to offer you is my love. _

He snorted. He really was drunk. Disgustingly cliché poetry only began to fill his brain when he was fucked up.

His phone had rung twice that night, but he'd ignored it, choosing instead to keep his eyes glued to the dark parking lot. The streetlight had burnt out, eradicating the yellow pool of light, and leaving Leon in his own little dark world of self-pity.

A ring broke the silence of the apartment, destroying Leon's solemnity for the third time. Leon took another shot, fully prepared to ignore the call the same way he'd done the last two. The machine clicked on after the fourth tone.

"Hey, this is Leon. Leave a message."

_"Hey…Leon, it's Cloud."_

Leon's head snapped up, attention as taut as a bowstring.

"_I'm at Sephiroth's apartment…it's downtown, 24 Harrington, apartment 543. Uh…could you come pick me up? I…uh…I don't really want to be here. Sorry to bother you about this….uh…yeah. Thanks."_

Leon stumbled to his feet, digging his keys out of his pocket. He'd barely taken two steps before the world listed sharply to the right, and he found himself grasping at the wall for support, remembering the four shots he'd just had in the space of ten minutes.

"Shit!" he yelled, voice alarmingly loud in the evening stillness.

Tripping his way along the dark hall to his bedroom, he groped around the bed stand, irrational triumph flashing through him when he felt the familiar shape of his cell phone. He flipped it open, bringing up his phonebook, and calling the first name that came to mind.

"Hello?"

A voice he knew well, a voice he'd commanded and shaped to his will over the last two months.

"Riku!"

A pause. "Leon?"

"Yeah. I need your help. Right now."

"Are you okay? You don't sound so good. Are you—?"

"Drunk. Yeah, drunk as fuck." He swallowed, casting his mind around for what he was supposed to be talking about. Oh yes. "Cloud, I need to get Cloud. I can't drive."

Riku made a coughing sound that could have been hiding a snicker. "I have no idea what you're talking about, Boss. Start over. Cloud, you mean, Cloud the sexy tech director? That Cloud."

Leon nodded furiously, before he realized Riku couldn't see him through the phone. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to force his foggy brain into action.

"Cloud's on a date. He called me and said he doesn't want to be there anymore. Can't drive. I'm too drunk. Please help me. I'll be eternally grateful," he added, his inebriated state thinking this would be a good touch.

When Riku spoke again, it sounded like he was making an effort not to crack up. Leon knew he sounded like a dumbass, but he couldn't quite bring himself to care. Cloud needed him.

"Okay, Leon, I'll be over there as soon as I can. You still live in that old ratty apartment?"

"Yeah," Leon answered, feeling mildly insulted.

"I'll be over there as soon as I can. Ditch the bottle."

* * *

"So…Cloud."

Sephiroth was sitting alarmingly close to him, a hand on his thigh, stroking slowly up and down. Cloud tried to relax back against the dark leather couch, but he couldn't do it. His body was tingling with an uncomfortable mix of nerves and arousal, and it left him jumpy and unsettled. Sephiroth took an elegant sip of his highball, leaning close.

"So Cloud…tell me, when did this interesting fascination with pain begin?"

Cloud's chest tightened, a familiar sense of shame stirring inside of him.

"I…I'm not really sure, I don't…"

"Don't be embarrassed," Sephiroth murmured in his ear, breath warm. "I think it's sexy."

"Yeah, you…mentioned that," Cloud stuttered, remembering the pleased smirk that had dawned on the silver-haired man's face when he'd seen his scarred nipples.

"You have an incredible body," Sephiroth went on shamelessly. "The idea of you doing such dirty things to it…" He laughed softly, clearly leaving off to let Cloud's imagination fill in the blanks. And did it ever fill in those blanks.

It didn't take very long for Sephiroth to lean in and press his lips to the corner of Cloud's. After a moment's hesitation, the blonde opened his mouth, letting the other man's tongue stroke its way inside.

He'd only ever kissed a handful of people in his life. Women, and all of them had been similar. Timid, polite, loving. Pleasant enough. Nothing skin-searing.

Sephiroth's kisses were vicious, violent and intense. A probing tongue and a pair of roving hands filled Cloud's world, filling him with a flush of heat. But still, it felt wrong, felt frightening. He broke away, coughing a little, breathless. There was a funny taste in his mouth, something other than brandy and saliva.

"Sorry," Sephiroth muttered, though he sounded anything but. The last thing Cloud saw before darkness enclosed him, was a pair of shining green eyes.

-------

"Hey Boss, I think he's wakin' up."

Cloud woke in stages, head foggy and pounding. He became aware that his arms ached, but when he tried to ease them he found they were suspended over his head. Trapped.

"What…" His voice was a hoarse, strangled whisper.

"He's most definitely waking up." Another voice, lower and deeper, scratchier.

"Fuck…" Cloud's head was swimming. He couldn't remember…couldn't remember…

He opened his eyes slowly, taking in the blank, shadowed wall in front of him. He was in the center of the room, feet scraping against the rough wooden floor. It was uncomfortably warm, especially after the industrial strength air conditioning of Sephiroth's flat. Sephiroth…that's right…he'd been on a date with—

"Sephiroth!" He didn't know if he was crying for help, or crying out in fear, but it was suddenly very important that he wasn't alone. "Sephiroth!"

"Over here, Cloud."

Everything was flooded with harsh white light. Cloud moaned, head pounding, eyelids fluttering. The room hadn't become any friendlier now that he could make things out. On the contrary, the harsh, blank walls looked more ominous than ever.

Sephiroth was in the corner, camera set up on a tall tripod, hair pulled back from his face. The sharp lines of his cheekbones were vicious in the fluorescent light.

"Seph…what?" Cloud didn't couldn't finish the sentence, because two more people had stepped into his line of vision, people he didn't know.

They were both large, burly men, the first slightly more muscular than the second. The first was hard-faced and dark, hair spun into a multitude of dreadlocks. The second man was bleached-blonde and rather arrogant looking, arms crossed across his chest. They wore identical looks of skepticism.

"This is your masochist?" the first one guffawed, arching a thick eyebrow. "Looks too pretty."

"Looks like he'd break too easy," the second chimed in.

Sephiroth laughed, the sound echoing eerily around the close room. "Looks can be deceiving."

"What's going on?" Cloud demanded, though it came out in little more than a squeak. He was scared and angry and confused, arms numb and aching.

The corner of Sephiroth's curled up. He snapped a picture. "Just a little photo shoot, Cloud. One of my newest projects."

Dreadlocks laughed, a deep, gravelly sound. "The defenseless virgin being ravaged by two huge cocks." He grabbed his crotch for emphasis.

Sephiroth made a tutting noise. "Don't be crude, Xaldin."

The second man joined in Dreadlocks' laughter. "There isn't anyone cruder than you, Boss."

"Sephiroth…" Cloud was shaking, body going cold despite the suffocating heat pressing in on them. "Please…"

The silver-haired man smiled, but it was nothing like the warm, adoring smile Cloud had become used to. It was cold and distant, like he was watching Sephiroth from the end of a tunnel.

"Don't worry, Cloud. I'll stop them if things get really out of hand."

"What—." His throat stuck and he had to try again. "What are you doing?"

"Like I said, just a photo shoot."

Xaldin had circled behind him, the blond man remaining still for now, smirk fixed firmly in place. Cloud felt a hand on his shoulder, raising the hair on the back of his neck.

"Don't touch me!" he snapped, jerking away, chains rattling, head pounding as the room swooped. Xaldin laughed, hands running down his back to grab his ass.

"Hot damn, Boss. Where did you find this kid?" A hot, wet mouth descended on the nape of Cloud's neck, sucking and nibbling. "He's fucking delicious."

"Mmm hmm," Sephiroth hummed, snapping a few pictures.

"Yo, Luxford, get him hard, would you?" Xaldin called. Cloud felt a sob rising in his throat, but he forced it back down. He would not fall apart in front of these men. Would not show Sephiroth what a weak little boy he was.

"Get him hard," Xaldin repeated, giving his ass another rough squeeze.

"With pleasure," Luxford, the blond, drawled lustily, flipping open a switchblade. "Let's see just how much pain you can take, baby."

"Don't…" Cloud's breath left him in rush as the knife tip slid across his pectoral, just grazing the edge of his nipple. He gasped, the sharp pain sending arousal through him to mix with the mounting panic.

"No, no, no," he moaned under his breath, as a familiar heat pooled in his groin. Luxford rubbed his hardening cock through his pants, his touch rough and pawing. He felt dirty.

Cloud clenched his teeth against the pleasure. The knife went back for several more small, shallow cuts, until warm blood seeped down his chest in crimson lines. Sephiroth continued to snap pictures, as Cloud's pants were unzipped. Luxford's expression was hungry as he drew his rigid dick out of its confines, giving it a couple of hard strokes.

"Stop!" Cloud practically yelped, hating that it felt so good, felt so good to feel someone else's touch besides his own for the first time in weeks. Xaldin's hands had left off feeling the muscles of his back, the big man's presence gone for the time being. He didn't want to know what he'd gone to do.

"Sephiroth please!" He tried to keep the desperation out of his voice, tried to sound tough, sound like a man, but the fear made his voice shake. The shame of enjoying the touch of this pervert's hand. "Sephiroth, make them stop! Please! I don't like this!"

Sephiroth was changing the lens on his camera. He glanced up briefly. "That's not the safe word, Strife," he cooed.

* * *

Leon met Riku out on the street, in front of his apartment. The kid drove up in that ostentatiously shiny car of his. It annoyed Leon even through the alcohol haze. Riku was a brilliant actor, _and_ he came from money. Some people got all the luck. He walked around to the passenger side, opened the door, and saw it was occupied by a spiky-haired brunette boy grinning rather apologetically.

Leon grunted, sliding into the back instead. It was roomy and smelled like new leather, though he knew for a fact Riku had had the car for a few years now.

"Hey, Leon, what was the address again?"

"24 Harrington," Leon called, louder than was necessary. He was suddenly so tired. He just wanted to curl up and go to sleep. But he couldn't, he reminded himself. He had to stay up for Cloud's sake.

The alcohol haze wasn't doing a thing to stop the image of innumerable horrors from cartwheeling through his mind, things the photographer might be doing to the blond right now. Rape, mutilation, humiliation…

The thing that really bothered him, however, was the notion that he might be about to walk into something completely different. Sure, Cloud had been feeling nervous, been wanting to leave a half an hour ago, but who wasn't a little anxious their first time? Leon wouldn't be able to handle it, if he rushed into save him and was greeted by the sight of something calm and consensual. Sephiroth teaching him the finer points of making love.

The idea of that perfect body shuddering, those beautiful eyes screwed up in ecstasy caused by another man, made Leon sick. And the idea that he'd rather Cloud was being abused than enjoying sex with Sephiroth filled him with a shame so deep it was a physical ache.

"Hey, Leon, this is my boyfriend Sora."

Riku called back from the driver's seat, shaking Leon from his self-pity. The little brunette smiled back at him kindly. He was kind of cute, big blue eyes and high cheekbones, though kids weren't really Leon's thing.

"Nice to meet you, Sora," he said, shaking the boy's hand.

"I hope everything turns out okay," he said, with such sincerity that Leon felt compelled to return his smile.

"Thanks," he muttered, leaning his head back and trying to think of a way that this could end happily. Maybe Cloud leaping into his arms, kissing him passionately right in front of Sephiroth.

_Yeah, _Leon thought, with a self deprecating snort, _Right. _

"He's going to be okay, Leon."

Leon looked up to see Riku's blue-green eyes reflected back in the rear-view mirror, more serious than he'd ever seen them before. At rehearsal he was all coy smiles and careful arrogance. Leon had always thought of him as an actor, not a person, never as someone likely to become a friend.

"How could you possibly know that?" he asked after a moment.

Riku shrugged, eyes shifting back to the road. "I just do. And if he's not, if something happened to him, then he's got you to take care of him."

Leon squeezed his eyes shut, praying, _praying _that Riku was speaking the truth.

* * *

Cloud choked on another moan, forcing it back down his throat. The whip landed on his back once again, making his body jerk, the blood surge to his groin. Luxford's strokes were strong and quick—his entire back was on fire. That would have been alright, he could handle pain. Liked pain. But Xaldin standing in front of him, stroking his hard, slippery cock, muttering awful things in his ears…he couldn't stand that. It made his whole being tremble with shame.

"Ya like this, don't you, baby?" Xaldin hissed, nipping his ear, licking his neck. Cloud whimpered as the caresses grew rougher and the whip was brought down again. Through it all, Sephiroth continued to snap pictures, face creased in business-like concentration.

"Just a couple more minutes, baby," Xaldin muttered hotly, "Then I'll slide you down my throat." He gave his cock a squeeze. "You'll return the favor, won't you? Let me cum all over your pretty face?"

"Fuck you," Cloud gasped out, body so tired and limp he hardly reacted to the stinging swish of the blows, barely heard them. Barely felt them.

"Going numb? Luxford, lay off a second." The blows stopped immediately. Xaldin reached around, caressing Cloud's stinging back. "No point if he can't feel it."

Cloud's eyes closed, groaning as he felt the bite of the switchblade again, digging into his chest. It was all becoming too much, the hate and panic surging through his body overcoming the arousal of the pain. He felt himself beginning to soften.

"None'a that now," Xaldin tutted, giving his dick another rough squeeze.

"Please," Cloud rasped, eyelids fluttering. "Stop."

To his surprise, Xaldin did just that. He let his penis go, glancing over his shoulder to Sephiroth.

"Hey, Boss, you did give the kid a safeword, didn't you?"

Sephiroth pushed his hair out of his eyes, changing the filter on his camera lens with a snap. "That's not any of your concern, Xaldin. You're getting paid to put on a show. Do it."

Xaldin's heavy features had fallen a bit, a line bisecting his forehead. "Boss, this is a volunteer, isn't it? He's a model, right?" He looked back at Cloud, searching for some sort of confirmation. "Right?"

Cloud breathing was heavy and choking as he grunted, "No."

Quick emotions flashed across Xaldin's face, staring with shock and settling on anger. "Sephiroth, did you just pick some kid off the street?"

"No," Sephiroth said, unruffled. "He works for me."

"I quit," Cloud spat. "Xaldin, let me go."

The dark-haired man tossed the switchblade to the floor. "Luxford, toss me the keys."

"Luxford…" Sephiroth's brow was raised, as if daring the blond man to obey.

Something glinted silver as it arched over Cloud's shoulder. Xaldin caught it, unlocking his cuffs. He grasped Cloud by the shoulders before he could hit the ground. His body shook, legs and arms numb. Everything hurt.

"Help me, Luxford," Xaldin grunted. Cloud felt the other man take his shoulder, the two of them half carrying, half dragging him to the door. Sephiroth hadn't moved from his place in the corner.

"The two of you are fired, just so we're clear," he said quietly, voice satiny and dangerous. "And Cloud." Those gleaming, frightening eyes fixed him in place. "Attempt to press charges, and I'll have him killed. You know who I mean, and you know I'm good for it."

-----------

Leon met them halfway down the fifth floor hallway. Cloud, pants flapping open, blood trickling down his chest, supported by two thuggish men who looked like they'd just traipsed out of a Bond movie.

"Cloud!" he shouted, clearing the last few yards between them at a sprint. "What the fuck happened to him?"

"Calm down, man," the bigger of the two men said, the one with dark dread-locks and sideburns that looked like they had a life of their own. "He yours?"

"Yes!" Leon snapped, almost snatching Cloud away from the two of them. The blond sagged into his arms, blue eyes hazy beneath their fluttering lids.

"Later," Dread-locks said, tipping an imaginary hat.

Leon didn't respond to them, just put Cloud's arm over his shoulder, sliding his hand around to grip his hip. He whispered words of encouragement and comfort, helping him slowly toward the elevator.

* * *

"Do you want something to drink?"

Cloud raised his eyes slowly. He was numb all over—a bubble of cold had formed in his chest, despite the sweat running down his back, making the lash marks sting. The heat had become increasingly oppressive all evening, and now he could hear thunder in the distance, rolling deep and echoing.

"Sure," he said, remembering he was supposed to answer. Something landed beside him on the sofa, sloshing softly against his thigh. He took the bottle and read the label. "Tequila? You think I need it?"

Leon shrugged. He leaned back against the kitchen wall, crossing his arms. "I have lime if you want it."

Cloud laughed shortly, unscrewing the cap. "This is fine." It burned all the way down, but it didn't do anything to melt the gathering cold.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Cloud felt sick, and he knew it had nothing to do with the tequila. "What is there to talk about?" His eyes were glued to the carpet.

"How about what happened?" Leon prompted stiffly. "About you being mutilated by that son of a bitch?" Cloud could tell he'd come a few feet closer.

He took another sip out of the bottle. "Nothing happened."

"I don't want bullshit." Leon's voice had hardened. It was like iron now, like cold steel. "They beat you, Cloud. They fucking hurt you."

"It doesn't hurt." Cloud felt things beginning to get fuzzy. He was getting drunk. Good.

"Then why don't you put a shirt on?"

Cloud shifted his bare shoulders against the couch. "It's hot."

"Yeah, it is." A pause with nothing but breathing and increasing tension. "Cloud, look at me."

His eyes stayed on the floor. "Why?"

"Because I don't think you can lie to me while you meet my eyes."

Cloud let out a harsh, slightly crazy-sounding laugh. "Great. You can know exactly what I'm thinking. Am I that fucking transparent, Leon?" He looked at him. "Am I?"

Leon's eyes were narrowed. Thunder rumbled far-off as he said, "Yes."

Cloud nodded, feeling tears burn at the corner of his eyes. He finished off the tequila and dragged the back of his hand across his lips. "Fucking brilliant." The apartment swayed as he tripped to his feet. "Just beautiful. I'm just perfect to take advantage of. Just a dumb, naïve idiot." He was babbling by now, refusing to look anywhere but at the carpet.

"Cloud, you're drunk."

"No shit." He stumbled toward the door, grasping at the wall for support. "You're the one who gave me the damn stuff."

"Where are you going?"

"Away."

"There's nowhere for you to go. You'll get hurt."

Cloud turned on his heel, the tears gone, the cold gone. Anger in its place. "Who the fuck are you, my mother?"

Something flashed across Leon's face, something dark and furious. His hair was sweaty, strands stuck to his neck and bare shoulders. His loose jeans were hanging low, revealing the swell of a hipbone.

"No, I'm not your mother. I'm just worried about you."

Cloud laughed. "Yeah, that's right. You're definitely not my mother. My mother doesn't want to fuck me."

Leon looked unimpressed. "Is that what's bothering you? The fact that I'm attracted to you?"

"No!" Cloud wanted to hit something, break something, but there was nothing within reach. He settled for stamping his bare foot on the thin carpet. "Yes! It's all anyone wants! Me! This!" He ran his hands over his bare chest for emphasis. "It's all Sephiroth wanted."

Grey eyes locked with blue, before Leon let out a laugh. It was so unexpected, so inappropriate for the moment, that it stopped Cloud in his tracks.

"Oh, is that all he wanted, Cloud? What a shock. It's not like you're fucking beautiful or anything."

"Is that supposed to comfort me, Leon? Is it supposed to make it okay that a bunch of strange men chained me up and molested me?"

"I didn't say that." Leon was punctuated every word with a step forward, one hand in his pocket, pulling those pants further down. Cloud could see the thin trail of hair disappearing below his waistband. "But you sure do make one hell of a good victim."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Cloud was a few paces away from the door. He could be out of there in a moment.

"It means you just invite abuse. You're such a—," Leon's arms snapped forward, pinning Cloud to the front door, hard. "Pushover." He whispered it hot in his ear.

Cloud writhed, crying out as rough paint on the door scratched the smarting cuts on his back. His body thrummed with sudden, shuddering arousal. Part of it was from the pain, but a good lot of it had to do with Leon's proximity, his warm breath on his cheek, hands moving slowly up his sides.

"You liked it, didn't you?" he breathed. "You liked being tied up and beaten."

Cloud hissed, breath coming fast as Leon's tongue played with the curve of his jaw, moving to the sensitive point below his ear. The hands smoothing over his chest swept across his nipples, making him arch his back against the wall.

"Ahh!" A short, abrupt gasp of pleasure.

Leon's fingers twisted into his hair, forcing his face up. "Well, did you?"

Cloud let out a shaky breath. He shoved Leon away from him. "I am _not _a pushover." The brunette fell into the back of the couch, sliding to the floor. Cloud was on him in a moment, pinning him to the carpet and grabbing him by the hair. Their mouths tantalized for a moment, breathing the same breath, before Leon's hand gripped his jaw, pulling him forward.

The kiss was hot and wet, delicious and terrifying at the same time. Cloud couldn't catch his breath, but he didn't want to stop, not even when Leon's tongue pushed its way into his mouth, arms wrapping around his waist and pulling him down on top of him. Leon parted his legs so Cloud was lying between them, their groins grinding together.

Cloud gasped into the kiss, breaking away to groan as Leon's hands moved feather-light across his raw back. His whole body was shivering, shaking with pleasure and need. He made to press his lips back to Leon's, but a hand wound into his spiky hair, restraining him.

"What are we doing here?" he asked, voice low and husky. His eyes were narrowed and hazy with arousal. "What is this?"

"Foreplay," Cloud answered, dipping his head to kiss the stiff muscle in the brunette's throat. "I want you to fuck me."

He felt Leon's whole body shudder underneath him. "I want…I want to. But you're using me."

Cloud flicked his tongue along his jaw. "And you're taking advantage of me, in my needy, drunken state." He smiled. "Are you really going to say no?"

Leon shook his head. "No fucking way."

Leon led the way to his bedroom, a million different emotions swirling inside his head. This was nothing like he'd imagined his first encounter with Cloud would be. He'd always thought it would be gentle, bringing the blond to ecstasy with soft kisses and slow strokes.

But this—this was so much better. The hungry, furious kisses, the way Cloud practically tore his shirt off, the way he stretched out on Leon's bed with his hands behind his head. The odd combination of trauma and tequila had wrought a definite change in Cloud's behavior. The walls had come down, the carefully concealed man Leon was falling in love with laid bare for him to see.

"So how do we start?" Cloud asked. He stretched like a cat, looking positively delicious against the dark sheets. One of the cuts had opened back up on his chest, but he didn't seem bothered by it. His eyes glowed blue in the darkness.

Leon crawled across the mattress, kissing him on the shoulder. "Take off your pants."

"You first," Cloud murmured, eyes sliding closed as Leon licked the curve of his ear. He really seemed to like that. The brunette put that away for later use. He wanted to know all the things that turned Cloud on. Besides pain, of course. And he was looking forward to exploring that as well—but not now. Cloud had had enough pain for one night. Enough abuse.

He smirked, standing up beside the bed and unsnapping his jeans. He slid them off slowly, boxers and all, watching the lust burn in Cloud's eyes. Why had Leon ever had any doubt about Cloud liking men?

He tossed his pants on the floor, grin widening as he saw Cloud's eyes travel downward. "Jesus."

Leon wrapped a loose hand around his stiff cock, giving it a few light strokes. Heat shot through his belly. "Impressed?"

Cloud grinned. "Not yet." He shucked off his own pants, lifting his ass up off the bed and tugging them awkwardly down his legs, finally giving Leon what he'd been longing to see since the moment he'd set eyes on the man. Cloud blushed, looking down, then moving his eyes quickly back up, as there was nothing down there to look at but his erection.

"Fuck, Strife," Leon breathed, crawling back onto the bed, across the terrain of unmade bedclothes. "You are so beautiful."

"Yeah?" It was meant to sound teasing, but it came out more than a little insecure. Cloud needed to be assured of his desirability. Leon could do that.

"Yeah," he breathed, leaning down to kiss the inside of Cloud's knee. His legs were tense and muscular, the hair on them soft and downy. His cock was thick and flushed red with arousal. He was uncircumcised. Leon kissed up his thigh, until the blond was almost trembling. He looked up, giving him the most reassuring smile he could.

He stretched out overtop his body, kissing him again, feeling Cloud's breath catch as their cocks brushed. Leon moved his mouth to his neck, licking and sucking at the soft skin. He'd waited so long for this, he was planning on taking it as slow as he could. Make it last all night, maybe.

"What do you like?" Leon breathed.

"What?"

He raised his head, catching the look of nervousness in Cloud's startling eyes before it was quickly covered by lust as he wrapped a hand around the blond's hardening dick.

"What do you like? I mean, what do you want me to do?" He narrowed his eyes into what he hoped was a sexy expression. "How far do you want to go?"

Cloud didn't answer, and for a moment Leon thought he'd sunk back into seclusion, pulled is head and limbs back inside the shell. But then, very quietly, "Just make me feel good."

Leon smiled. "That, I can do." He sat back, letting his eyes wander down Cloud's chest, to the wonderfully abused pair of nipples. Once again, the thought of Cloud slicing into one of the most sensitive parts of his body for pleasure sent a sharp bolt of arousal into Leon's groin, making his cock twitch.

"Mmmm…Strife, you have no idea how hot you make me," he muttered, leaning in and licking at a perked nipple. Shivers racked the blond's body, making him whimper.

"That…that feels so good," he gasped out, as Leon continued to lick and suck. He could feel gooseflesh breaking out over Cloud's arms. He pinched the other nipple between his thumb and forefinger, rolling it along in time with his tongue.

"Leon…" Cloud was almost panting. "Leon, Leon stop! Stop, that feels—."

Leon made a little growling noise in his throat, grasping the blond's dripping shaft, jerking quickly, sliding the foreskin up and down. Cloud moaned sharply, his cock twitching in his hand. He was hard up as hell, that much was sure. Leon ran a light fingernail up the pulsing vein, admiring the way Cloud's brow creased with the pleasure. His whole body was tight; it felt like he was getting ready to blow. His hips were writhing against the mattress.

"Leon!" Cloud's hands clawed at his chest, trying to push him away. "Leon, stop, I'm gonna…"

"Shhhh…" Leon crooned, kissing his neck. "It's okay. Let go." Cloud's penis was twitching and thickening in his hand. He rubbed a finger against the agonizingly sensitive head, making the blond gasp brokenly in his throat. He bit down hard on a nipple. Cloud's entire body jerked, his hands gripping Leon's arms as he came. Warm, thick liquid splashed over Leon's hand, speckling over his chest.

Cloud's breath came quick and frenzied, eyes squeezing shut as his body shuddered in Leon's arms. He was so beautiful, so perfect in the throes of pleasure.

"I'm sorry," he muttered after a moment, turning his face away.

Leon caught his chin. "Sorry? Sorry for what?"

Cloud wrinkled his nose, fingers trailing through the spooge on Leon's chest. He held up two fingers, dripping with white fluid. Leon laughed, smoothing Cloud's hair back from his forehead.

"Don't be sorry," he murmured. "I like it." He leaned forward, sucking the fingers into his mouth.

Cloud made a disgusted sound in the back of his throat. "Doesn't that taste awful?"

Leon chuckled. "Well, it's not exactly a delicacy. But it's not really that bad. Besides…" He kissed Cloud softly on the curve of his jaw. "If I hadn't wanted you to cum I wouldn't have jerked you off so hard."

Cloud's face burned pink, just as he knew it would.

"You liked it, though, didn't you?" Leon asked with a slightly devilish smile. "It looked like you did."

Cloud nodded. "It was…really intense."

"Good." Leon kissed him softly at the corner of his mouth, sliding down his body and licking the sensitive area where his hip, stomach, and groin met. Cloud hissed softly. His muscles, so taut only a few moments ago, had loosened boneless into afterglow. He was so beautiful, so perfect. To Leon he looked like some mythic creature, a golden-headed god of lust lying sated on a bed of silk.

Leon paused for a moment, before lightly stroking Cloud's softening penis, taking the head into his mouth and sucking, swirling his tongue around.

"Fuck!" Cloud cried, body clenching in a combination of aching pleasure and discomfort. "Stop that!"

Leon let it drop from his mouth, licking his lips slowly. "Too much?"

Cloud nodded shakily, eyes hazy with post-coital glow. "Yeah." His gaze drifted down Leon's body, settling between his legs. "Are you going to do something about that?"

"This?" Leon wrapped a hand around himself, unable to stifle a little gasp in his throat. He was so hard by now, it would only take a few strokes to finish him off. He fervently didn't want to do it in front of Cloud, didn't want the blond to think he had no staying power.

Cloud seemed to be struggling with something. "Do you…" He bit his lower lip, looking nervous. "Do you want to fuck me?"

The idea sent waves of heat through Leon, making his cock throb even harder. He wanted to, dear god did he want to.

Slowly, he shook his head. "Not right now. It's something you have to build up to." He gave himself a few slow strokes, already feeling the heat in his stomach coiling tight. He let his eyes slide shut, but quickly opened them again when he felt a hand that wasn't his own close around his shaft.

Cloud was smiling jauntily at him. "Let's start building then, shall we?"

* * *

There you have it! Finally, after long last, some Cloud/Leon action!

Review, bitches! Last chapter I got about half the reviews I normally get. Come on, sex scenes deserve reviews, right?

Oh, and I have another multi-chapter fic up called Bad Medicine. It's Leon/Riku, so go check it out!


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